


Dreams

by Anchanee, HyuugaYouka



Category: Lord of the Rings - All Media Types
Genre: Dreams, Emotional Hurt/Comfort, Fighting, Help, Hurt/Comfort, Implied Torture, Implied or Off-stage Rape/Non-con, Rescue, Support
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-01-20
Updated: 2013-02-17
Packaged: 2017-11-26 05:10:02
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 19
Words: 47,142
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/646932
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Anchanee/pseuds/Anchanee, https://archiveofourown.org/users/HyuugaYouka/pseuds/HyuugaYouka
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>This story popped into my mind some time ago. Legolas is one of my favorite characters in the book as well as in the movies. Torturing him a little might not be fair but fun and as always, I'm aiming for a happy ending.</p><p>If you don't like seeing our beloved elf having a heard time and loosing a little from his superiority, please refrain from reading.<br/>He is a hero after all, but everyone has a breaking point and this is my story of the consequences when pushed beyond.</p><p>It has taken me nearly a month to complete that story. I hope you will have as much fun reading it as I had writing it in the first place.</p><p>Now, off you go. Last one in middle earth buys the first round of mead ;).</p><p>Enjoy.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Prologue

**Author's Note:**

> German is not my native tongue. So please forgive errors, misspellings and slightly awkward phrases.
> 
> I hope all of you will have as much fun reading this story as I had writing it.
> 
> So, lets plunge into the darkness. Head first!
> 
> After completing it, this story can be found on my tumblr-account. You are welcome to comment it there: http://anchanee.tumblr.com/

**Torches**

**Darkness**

**PAIN!**

Ranaria woke suddenly, panting and shaking all over. A glance out of the window told her that she would have to rise within the hour. The sky was already lighting up in the east. It would be useless to try going back to sleep. Weak and shivering from her nightmare, she rose from her bed and went to the dresser that was equipped with a basin of water and a copper mirror. Washing away the sweat, she slowly raised her face to stare at her own reflection. Usually, she avoided this unless it was absolutely necessary, but this morning she felt the need to assure herself that it truly had been nothing more than a dream. That her scars were truly healed and not fresh and raw as the dream had suggested. With reluctant fingers, she traced the mutilated tissue that ran from the left side of her forehead, over her cheek, making a sharp turn there and splitting a part of her lower lip. She considered herself lucky that she had neither lost her eye, nor that the skin on her cheek had been broken through. The infection that had been the result of those injuries could have easily taken her life. So all in all, she could call herself fortunate. But during mornings like these, when the memories rose from the depth of her mind where she had desperately tried to burry them, she thought she might have been better off dying than reliving her abduction and torture over and over again in her mind.

Brushing the water basin away forcefully she shook her head in frustration, pulling at her tangled hair with a comb before binding it together before making breakfast. What good did those thoughts do? She was not weak! She had survived her abduction by orcs, being tortured and … worse things when she was 13, and had still made it out alive! Her people had found her and rescued her, and she had learned to defend herself so that nothing similar would ever happen to her again. Now, five years later she was strong! A rider or Rohan. A female rider of the mark, one of the very few. She knew that only the queen had enabled her to go through the training and she had found her place among her fellow warriors. But neither she nor any member of her troop had ever regreted that decision. She was a great archer, one of the best. She was good with her daggers and acceptable with a sword. No use in dwelling in the past, when she had a good life and a bright future ahead of her!

Her father rose half an hour later, when the sky was golden from the morning sun. She had already prepared some fresh bread and was finishing some eggs that could be served with ham and cheese to strengthen them for the day. Only when he laid his hand on her shoulder, did she realize that he had talked to her.

_“Nia … what’s wrong?”_

_“Nothing father, everything is al-”_

_“Don’t! Just don’t Ranaria. Don’t tell me everything is alright when I can see it isn’t. I know that I am not your mother and that I am not as good at these things as she was. But I am here and I love you. So please daughter mine, tell me what is bothering you.”_

She didn’t know if it was the fierce but loving tone of his voice or the gentle hands he had laid on her shoulders, but suddenly she couldn’t hold herself together any more. She turned away from the stove and flung her arms around him, clinging onto him for dear life. And of course her father understood. Holding her, rocking her oh so slightly, rubbing her back and keeping her safe. Here, in this house, with her family and her people, she would always be safe. Minutes passed where neither spoke a single word before she relaxed and let go. Naron just looked at his daughter and brushed a hand tenderly over her hair just to kiss her temple before releasing her. He was so proud of her, but he had not the words. All he could do was show her how much he loved her. But after her mother’s death, not long after that … incident … they had been forced to find a way to survive on their own.

Maybe his wife would have detested knowing, that her daughter had become a warrior of the Riddermark. But after her request it had seemed to be a good solution for her fears and anxieties. After being … hurt … learning to defend herself was more than acceptable for him. Queen Eowyn had been generous enough to allow it.  Special circumstances asked for special solutions, and none of them had ever regretted their decision. Ranaria's precision with her bow had proved a valuable addition to their warriors so her being a woman was simply overlooked.

Now his daughter pulled away from him, smiling her bedazzling smile that made her whole face light up just like her mother, before starting to serve breakfast. They had a strenuous day ahead of them. The King and Aueen of Gondor had announced their annual visit, and everyone in and around the great hall was buzzing with excitement. This year was also the first where Ranaria would be allowed to stand guard in front of the great hall. That meant she could see their royal guests up close. She had been excited about that for more than a week, ever since her commander Theron had told her. So after forcing away her dark thoughts, her excitement came back. She allowed herself only a few minutes of shared breakfast before announcing that she was off to the great barracks, preparing for the day.


	2. An Assignment

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Meeting with royalty makes everybody kind of nervous.

Washing, braiding, polishing armour, they had all been terribly buzzy and they have resumed their post only half an hour prior to the royals’ arrival. Expecting to be positioned at the side, Ranaria needed all her self-control not to fidget or bounce on the spot, when her commander placed her right next to the stairs. She would see the king and queen up close. Something she had been able to do only once in her life, when her vows of service and devotion for the kingdom had been accepted in the great hall two years prior. Aragorn had been there, although not clad in chain armour and with his crown but in leather with dirty hands and smoking a pipe in the background. Something had been brewing in the south back then and the visit has clearly been an unofficial one. But never the less, she had never forgotten the man, and she was excited to see him again. Also the Lady Arwen who was said to be the most beautiful elfish woman in the world. She really couldn’t wait for it and when the horses of the party finally arrived she forced herself to a decent composure. Sword raised high in salute to their guests she really couldn’t keep herself from grinning to her friend Aeron who stood on the other side of the staircase, after they had passed them by. The evening was long and only when the moon had risen in the sky were they relieved from their duties.

Meeting at the tavern, they drank and speculated way into the night what would be discussed between the kings and queens and what consequences’ it would have on their duties and their kingdoms. Although many had died during the great battle, still enough warriors were alive, to repeat the stories of how those courageous hobbit had helped to defeat the witch king, while another one had destroyed the ring and saved Middle Earth. Ranaria loved those stories, because when hearing them, she always became aware of how horrible her life could be, when Middle Earth was ruled by someone like Sauron. Returning to her home, slightly drunk and swaying on her feet she was sure that tonight no bad dreams would trouble her. But she was wrong.

**The trees around her felt threatening but somewhat familiar, as were the hands that grabbed her shoulders, bent her back, ripping at her clothes. The pain in her backside was unbearable, she was sure to be split in half, bleeding out to death under the cruel and forceful ministrations of her captures. But – as always – death would be too easy for her. They still had use for her, still wanted to toy with her in the morning, forcing her to do labours for them and she would be far too weak to resist. Everything she had learned since that dreadful days and nights, every experience on the battlefield, it all was null and void when she was held in the clutches of her nightmares. She felt herself shivering and splaying onto the forest floor, between long roots, bumping her head painfully on the hard wood. She had always been bound before, but now they knew that she would never, ever have the power to flee. A dark desperation welled up inside her soul and swallowed her whole.**

Her cheeks were wet with tears when she rose in the morning. This was the third night she have had that dream. It was wrong. Some things in the dream were wrong, but as little as she could lay her fingers on the differences between her nightmares and her memories, as little was she able to supress them. So she tiredly rose, prepared herself for the day and started breakfast.  
Upon her return to the barracks Theron pulled her to the side.

_“The nightmares have started again.”_

It was no more a question than she needed to answer it. It was a statement of fact and this man was the only one in her life she was able to admit it to, because Captain Theron had been the one to find her and rescued her from that very horror that was now haunting her occasionally. He had been younger than but never the less a skilled rider and archer. After seeing the dirty, bloody and rolled-up child in the woods, bound to a tree like an animal, his anger had gotten the better of him. With big, frightened eyes had Ranaria watched the warrior and his squad to slaughter each and every orc, up until all of them were piled up in an enormous mound of flesh, burning under the night sky. Only then had he carefully approached her, freed her of her leash and brought her home. All through the ride back to her family she had simple been unable to let go of him. Starved, hurt and shivering she might have been a burden to him, but he never said a single word about it.  
When she had proclaimed to wanting to become an archer, he had been her trainer and now she served under his command. She would die for him and he very well knew it and rewarded her with his trust. So when he asked her that terrible personal question she just nod, confirming his suspicion.

_“Do you want to get the day of? Go back home to sleep some more?”_

_“What good would that do? I have had that dream for the third night in a row, no use in going back to sleep, until I absolutely have to.”_

_“Are you fit for duty?”_

Ranaria took some time to assess her situation. She was tired but not dead to the world as she had been in the beginning. She had learned to deal with her nightmares, although they plagued her more recently over the last days, than they had before. With a good workout and fresh air she was sure she was absolutely up for work. So she just nod and in return her commander ordered her:

_“Alright, than change into your training gear. Sword training starts in a few minutes.”_

Armed and ready for combat she met her squad on the training grounds and spent the better part of the morning improving her close combat skills. She still was better with her daggers, they were lighter than the sword, easier to wield in her opinion, but also forced her into a closer contact with her opponent. Something her father, as well as her commander tried to avoid.

_“Ra! To the great hall!”_

It took her a moment to avoid being sliced in half by Aeron – who was really an excellent sword fighter and had improved her skills over many hours of personal training – before drawing back and raising her hand in defeat. Only then did her opponent lower his sword and they both nod their head before she jogged across the training grounds to her commander.

_“Your presence was requested, so wash quickly and off you go!”_

Irritated by this request, in her opinion none of their leaders knew her well enough to ask for her personally, and she hadn’t messed anything up in the past few weeks, she just splashed some water into her face, cleaning her hands from the dirt of the grounds before stalking up to the golden hall.  
Brushing some dust from her shirt and her trousers she took a deep breath before entering Meduseld. As always, the surroundings took her breath away. Here her queen and king sat. Here decisions for all of her people were made. Here her life had changed because she had been allowed to become what she was, rather than a victim for the rest of her life. Never the less the overwhelming feelings she associated with these surroundings she compose herself, held her head high and walked up to the throne, only to sink to one knee before it and announcing:

_“Your majesties have called for me. How can I be of service?”_

_“Rise Ranaria, daughter of Naron.”_

As ordered she rose to her feet and looked at the kings and queens expectantly. It was the king of Gondor who came up to her and looked her up and down. It took some effort not to retreat under his watchful eyes, but his words were friendly as he said:

_“You have grown since I last saw you, in awareness as in skill from what I was told.”_

Her puzzled expression was answered with a low chuckle as he continued:

_“I was there the day you took your vows young rider. I’m sure you can’t remember. It was an exciting day for you.”_

_“I remember very well Mylord. But I am surprised that you do.”_

Speaking her thoughts was maybe not the wisest decision, but that thought only crossed her mind when the words had already left her mouth. Again the king seemed more amused than irritated by her attitude.

_“There are not many female riders Ranaria. Currently there are only two. Remembering them is not too much of a strain.”_

Flaming red covered her cheeks and finally Ranaria lowered her head. She had not meant to imply anything, especially not that the king of Gondor might have a bad memory. So now she had embarrassed herself and didn’t new what to say to make it up again.  
But after a second the low chuckles of Eowyn and Faramir saved her. If they could laugh, what she had said surely wasn’t too bad. But she was completely taken aback when Aragorn was joined by Arwen. Pulling her arm around his waist in a loose circle the beautiful elven queen asked in a melodic voice:

_“I would like to take a ride tomorrow. Fearing for my safety my husband asked for a guard and your king and queen have suggested you. Tell me Ranaria, daughter of Naron, would you like to accompany me tomorrow?”_

Completely taken by surprise Ranarias eyes flew to her queen and king. But their faces showed only slight amusement and approval of the request. So she bowed deeply:

_“It would be an honour Milady. I will have the horses prepared one hour after sunrise.”_

Informed about the route the queen of Gondor planned to take, she memorized the surroundings and afterwards resumed her duties.  
The whole afternoon passed her by, for in her mind she relived the scene in the great hall over and over again. They had asked for her, personally and she would be allowed to ride with an elf, with a queen! If something would go wrong, if harm would befall her charge she would be in serious trouble, as would Rohan. But she knew these grounds and the woods nearby, better than her own home. She was sure she was up to the duty and proud that Eowyn and Faramir trusted her with this.


	3. A hack and it's consequences.

The night was not better than before but Ranaria forced away the images of the grotesque faces and the darkness, the feelings of humiliation and pain as she rose from her bed preparing for the day. Her father would do with a cold breakfast for she had to pack up some things to guarantee a safe and comfortable journey for the queen. Half an hour after sunrise she walked into the stable, only to comb her horse’s main affectionately before saddling it with easy care. After treating the queen’s steed with the same care, she prepared her departure for the great hall, only to find the Lady Arwen standing at the door of the stables.  
Clad in dark green cloth armour, with a sword at her side, smiling. Her voice was friendly and quite melodious as she asked:

_“Do you treat all of your steeds with such a care or is mine special?”_

Smiling in return Ranaria petted the main of the queens horse one more time before opening its box, only to watch it approaching it’s rider with care.

_“The horses are our life. We treat them accordingly.”_

After releasing her own horse, she followed the queen into the dizzy morning.  
After a brief encounter at the gate the two women were off into the beautiful, rich landscape of her homelands. Although she had spent all her life in these lands, Ranaria always felt small compared to the wide, majestic countryside that surrounded their city. Vast hills, rich forests, regal mountains that could be seen from afar made Rohan the most beautiful kingdom in all Middle Earth. For more than an hour the two of them just savoured their freedom, four of them if you counted the horses. Chestnut itched to stretch his limps and the daughter of the Riddermark could feel his twitching beneath her body. Surely the Lady would not mind a faster pace. Edging him on just a little, she found herself nose to nose with the queen and after a quick glance to the side realized that the Lady would enjoy it as well. Within minutes the two women flew over the veld, hairs flying behind them in the early morning breeze.

Sometime later Ranaria moderated her horse, because she was sure she had heard something. Instantly catching up to her guard the queen did as well. Faster than her companion the elf discovered the falcon that approached them from the hillside. Raising her arm she looked somehow puzzled when the wild animal passed her by, only to land on Ranarias shoulder. Grateful that she had chosen her leather armour for this trip and not her chain male the young woman looked up at her unexpected visitor.

_“So you have finally remembered me and decided to honour me with your visit?”_

_“Your pet?”_

The female rider could only laugh and shake her head.

_“No I found him about two years ago. His mother had been hunted down when he had only recently hatched. Having a heart for “strays” as my father always calls I,. I took him with me to the city and raised him. But he is a wild animal after all, only occasionally honouring me with his presence since he reached maturity._

_So tell me my friend. What was it this time that kept you from me for so long?”_

The brown and white falcon puffed up his feathers and suddenly appeared twice his size, a gesture that made not only Ranaria but also the queen laugh out loud.

_“Important business, I understand of course. Who am I to intervene with the matter of a noble beast like you?_

_But let’s see if you have not forgotten how to catch while entertaining your affaires.”_

With these words the woman produced a piece of dried meat from her saddle pockets. Instantly the bird tried to grab it, but stilled when Ranaria raised her finger to him. Instead she threw the piece as high and as far as she was able too, watching her friend shooting after it.

_“You surly have a way with animals. Galawar liked you a lot and he usually accepts only my or Aragorns touch. The falcon is clearly not tamed, never the less obeys you. You are remarkable.”_

Not knowing what to do with the compliment, in her opinion it was not that hard to be friends with an animal, Ranaria settled for the first question that came to her mind:

_“What does >Galawar< mean?”_

Arwen stroke over her horses light brown neck affectionately before answering:

_“It means >daylight< in the tongue of my people.”_

Regarding the beautiful horse that was ridden by the elf the human woman could only nod while answering:

_“It’s a very fitting name. He truly looks like living sunshine when he is running.”_

After that her friend drew wide circles above them and Ranaria settled for a slightly different route to their destination. She didn’t know why she refused to cross the river, but something told her that an alternative course would be better. If her protégé was confused by that action she didn’t let it show.  
When they arrived at the edge of the forest, short after midday, the queen announced after lunch, that she would enter the woods alone.

Unsure if she was allowed to leave her unguarded Ranaria tried to protest, but was resolutely shot down by the queen. She had the duty to obey her majesties, to carry out the meaning of their orders, not only the letters, but before her stood the queen of Gondor. Ranaria was not sure if she was allowed to disobey her either. In the end Arwen made it easy for her by saying:

_“I will retreat into these woods on my own. If you follow me the horses will be alone and you as well because do you honestly think that you can follow an elf when she does not want to be followed?”_

Her kind simile took the harshness out of her words so Ranaria just nod obediently and prepared herself and the horses for staying behind. It was a beautiful afternoon and without their saddle the animals enjoyed the luscious weeds that grew at the edge of the forest, and the rider sat herself on a stone to watch over them and waiting for the Ladies return.  
The sun already painted the sky in the most beautiful colours when she felt a soft hand shaking her shoulder. Drawing her daggers in reflex she found herself face to face with a worried looking queen.

_“You have had a nightmare.”_

Sheading her daggers Ranaria realized that Arwen was right. It was inexcusable that she had dozed off during her watch and so she made haste so scramble from the stone, to saddle the horses again. Under no circumstanced did she wish to speak about this. But the gentle hands of the elf stopped her. Her eyes where inquisitive and of such a bright blue colour that she felt unable to pull her gaze away from them. Compelled she looked into them and felt the next question more than actually hearing it:

_“This has happened before, hasn’t it?”_

Ranaria felt herself nod. Why did she do this? This was not something she felt comfortable to discuss with her father, let alone a complete stranger, queen or not!

_“What are they about?”_

_“About … they are about me …”_

She didn’t want this, but at the same time was unable to stop herself.

_“Five years ago I was abducted by orcs during a journey into the woods. I was … I was held captive and … tortured and … and … and I was raped …”_

Soft hands on her cheeks brushed away her tears tenderly, but those eyes still held her captive, so she could do nothing but to continue.

_“And now I dream about this, night after night. This has never happened before. Occasionally yes, but never so often, not every time I close my eyes. And I am so tired …”_

Finally, finally Ranaria was able to lower her head. Still gentle fingers touched her skin, silent incomprehensible words where whispered as the elfish queen brushed her lips over her temple lightly. Her voice was nothing more than a whisper, matching that of Ranaria when she has spoken of her past.

_“You are very gifted Ranaria, Narons daughter.”_

After a brief pause, where she seemed to reconsider her words she asked inquisitively:

_“Are you sure that those are really memories from the past?”_

_“What else might they be?”_

Irritated and confused by this strange exchange Ranaria looked at Arwen for an explanation. But the queen has already called for her horse to saddle it. Obviously she didn’t want to talk about this anymore.  
Upon their return to Meduseld Arwen took the opportunity to invite Ranaria into the great hall for dinner and – being a subject of Rohan – she couldn’t help but feeling honoured so she accepted. Truly the evening was enjoyable and full of laughter when the queen told the others of Ranarias feathered friend, only to be supplied by the rider with stories of how she had found the bird and how irritating it had been for her father to fight with someone so small for the ham he enjoyed for breakfast.

Everything seemed to be all right again, when Ranaria excused herself some time later, only to be thanked by the king and queen of Gondor and smiled at by her own majesties. In high spirit she returned to her house and beamed at her father, entertaining him with a brief summary of her day’s activities, carefully leaving out the chat with the elfish queen.  
When she finally retreated to her room she felt tired and more than a little worried about the upcoming night. She took her time washing her body from the dust and the sweat that covered it after a day’s ride and finally lay on her bed, clad only in a soft linen nightgown that had once belonged to her mother. Her hand found the pendant that always hung around her neck, ever since before she had started her training.

 

It had been a gift from her mother.

>Sometimes, when really horrible things happen, all you can do is hold on to something to get through them.  
Breaking down is acceptable, but only when you were back to safety.<

That had been her mother’s advice when Ranaria had finally found her voice and asked her how she should cope with what had happened. That had been one week before her instructing had begun. She had done her very best, thrown herself into it whole heartily, but it had not extinguished her fears, not at the beginning. Now she used the pendant very rarely, but taking it off was completely unbearable for her. It was one of the most precious things her mother had possessed, because her father had left it the night he had shared with her mother, the only night they had shared, before disappearing again. The result had been the birth of her mother.  
Ranaria knew that pendant, the trees, the leaves and the glittering stone in the corner. Although she had been hit, struck down and wounded, the bronze plate remained unscratched. Once a week she would clean and polish it before returning it to its rightful place around her neck. But nothing else seemed to have an impact on the jewellery and a tiny part of Ranaria took that indestructability for her mother’s love, although she was dead for more than four years now, as long as she had that, she didn’t have any doubt that her mother was still watching over her.

On the tail of these musings dwelled a strange thought in Ranarias mind. Her mother was still watching her, as if in a dream. What if the elfish queen was right? What if she was watching somebody else in her dreams? What if the nightmares were not memories of herself, but very real horrors of somebody else? She had had a strange feeling before, but now she was more than unsure about it. Could that happen, to her? Was that even possible?  
Turning to her side she looked into the candle, revelling in the tiny flame that filled her chamber with so much light and warmth even if it was so small. If it was possible, she was bound to help. If not, she would surely go mad, because she could only go so many days without a restful sleep. Closing her fingers around her necklace she tried to draw the light and the fire into herself before closing her eyes, finally succumbing to the sleep.

**PAIN!**

**A world full of pain enclosed her when she opened her eyes again. Back in the woods, back in her nightmare, circled by ugly orcs, beaten, split in half, riddled, humiliated, but back in her own mind. It was a dream, nothing more than a dream and these things couldn’t hurt her if she didn’t allow it. Forcing herself to draw a deep breath she observed her surroundings, herself. She knew these woods oh so very good. A part of her wanted to vomit instantly, brought back to the place of her suffering.  
But the conscious part of her, the part that clung onto her pendant desperately, fought against these feelings. She could still feel the pain and the torment, but it was as if she had separated herself from it somehow. She could feel the edges of the medallion she was wearing digging into her skin, but when she looked down, both of her hands were on the ground. Long, slender fingers clawed helplessly into the forest ground. Dirty and broken nails searched for anything to hold on to, only to be able to crawl away from the agony. These were strong hands, but not hers she realized. **

**Someone was there. Someone was brutalized at the very same space where she had lived through the very same thing five years ago.**

Opening her eyes again she raised her hand, only to draw her fingers over the imprint of the tree that had embedded itself into the palm of her hand. She was still tired, still felt worn from the images that had haunted her for the better part of the last week. But finally, finally she understood them and knew what she could do about them.

Rising slowly she clad herself with care. Strapping herself in her leather armour, preparing her daggers, her bow and her quiver. Filling her saddle bags with spare clothes, blankets, remedies to deal with basic battle wounds as well as burns and abrasions. Leaving her room she went through their stocks and wrapped up a good deal of food, stuffing it into her pockets, so that it wouldn’t dry out or decay.  
When her father opened the doors to the sleeping chamber he had shared with her mother for so many years his eyes were tired and weary, but he didn’t say a word. Only when she was finished he asked:

_“Where will you go?”_

_“Back to where it all started.”_

_“Will you take somebody with you?”_

_“No, I need to do this alone.”_

_“Is that wise daughter mine?”_

Only after that question did Ranaria turn to her father and embraced him tenderly. Instantly the gesture was returned and for some minutes the two of them just revelled in the closeness of the other. Finally after she had broken away Ranaria whispered:

_“No, it is not. But I can’t expect anybody else to chase my nightmares. They are mine and mine alone.”_

Having no response to that, her father just nod and kissed her on the forehead.

_“Have a safe journey Ranaria. And come back to me.”_

_“I will do everything in my power to ensure that father. I promise.”_

Both, father and child knew that she was absolutely honest with her words, the problem was, that her powers might not be enough to ensure a safe return.

The night was at its darkest hour, not long before dawn, when Ranaria reached the house of Theron. Being the commander of the archers, he lived in a small house for himself, placed on the ground of the barracks. Impatiently the woman tapped on the shutters of his bedroom window until he opened them with sleepy eyes, seeing her clad in full armour and armed alerted him instantly.

_“What’s wrong Ra?”_

_“I need to go commander.”_

_“Go where?”_

_“Back into the woods.”_

_“What woods? … What? … NO! Absolutely not! You can’t do that! Not on your own.”_

Ranarias voice grew gentle after that outburst from her commanding officer.

_“I have to go alone Theron and you know it. You trust me, don’t you? You trust me when I suggest a different route. You trust me when I advise you to hunt in a certain area. You trust me when I tell you where we must go to protect our people. How often have I advised you over the last years?”_

_“At least a dozen times.”_

_“And when have I ever been wrong?”_

_“Never.”_

_“So if you ever trusted me. Please trust me on this. I need to go and I need to go alone. I can’t explain it any more than my knowing where to find pray or danger for our kingdom, but I know it. Please commander … Theron … please, let me go.”_

He didn’t like it. He didn’t like it at all. But they both knew that Ranaria was right. Her instincts had never been wrong, not when they had been so strong that she spoke of them. But letting her go into the woods where she had been tortured and nearly killed, that went against every protective instinct Theron possessed. But in the end he knew that she was right.  
He couldn’t expect from any of his men to follow her into a chaise for a rainbow. And although he knew that there was more to it; knew it because he truly had learned to trust her feelings, there was no way he could justify the use of more of his men on this. Ranaria relaxed noticeably when she felt him giving in. His voice grew stern as he told her:

_“You have a fortnight. If you are not back on the next full moon, I will hunt you down personally. Do you understand me?”_

_“Yes commander._

_… and Theron?”_

_“Yes?”_

_“Thank you.”_

Nodding only tiredly he closed his shutters again, leaving Ranaria on the empty street, finding her way to the stables. Feeling the gravity of the situation chestnut held absolutely still as she covered him with a thick blanket, saddling him carefully and distributing the weight of her equipment equally on both sides.  
Although surprised by her early arrival the guards at the gates accepted her explanation, that she was about to scout the eastern borders for her commander, without question. Only when she had left the city did she mount her horse. The morning was beginning to colour the horizon in the faintest blue as she lay down low over chestnuts neck, shooting over the country back to the place where she had nearly been broken before. But now she was no child anymore. Now she was a rider of the Mark and she would show these orcs, that capture and torment within their borders was absolutely unacceptable.


	4. Rescue

It was fare past midday when Ranaria first spotted the trees of the Fangorn forest. Usually it took her squad at least two days to reach these natural borders, but alone and anxious chestnut had carried her here in half of the time. She had also seen her feathery friend again, circling above as if wishing to guard and to protect. But no one would ever be able to protect her from this. Although she could only see the treeline from afar, old doubts and anxieties returned. So, after being in the saddle for several hours, she decided that it was best to rest here for a few hours, before approaching the forest. She took care of her horse, cooked herself a light meal, before resting comfortably against one of the giant boulders that lay on the ground, deep routed in the earth of her homeland.

**This is no torture, this is toying!?!**

**When she felt herself back in the clutches of the enemy, she became instantly aware of the changed situation. She had been forced to skin an animal … a big rabbit by the looks of it. But her hands, they simply wouldn’t work properly. It hurt! It hurt so much as if her fingers had been broken again and again and again. But upon looking down she realized that it were only the scratches from the forest floor, from clutching onto the trees, that her … the hands were covered in them and that no unblemished skin could be seen.**

**They laughed at her, riddled her and her clumsiness with incomprehensible words, only to hit her with birches again and again. Not strong enough to break her skin, only strong enough to bring a deep amount of pain. And again she tried, so desperately to complete her task, because if she pleased them now, maybe they wouldn’t hurt her as much later. Maybe they would spare her, if only for a single evening. Just for once, one night of peace. But deep down she knew that that hope was completely vain. That they were actually looking forward to the time after dinner when they would take her again, force her beneath them, shove themselves into her at every possible angle and that thought alone made her want to weep. But she couldn’t, because there were no tears left in her. All she could do was enduring and hoping that very soon in the future they would hit her so hard, that she would finally be able to bleed to death. For right now, death seemed the only possible escape.**

The sun was already setting when Ranaria pushed herself upright. Again her cheeks were wet with tears. But those were not her’s, she had cried them for the victim that was abused in the woods, because she could not cry them for herself any more. She had no problem whatsoever to distinguish between her own feelings and those of the prey now, because Ranaria felt only fury. Anger that radiated from the very core of her being, igniting every limp right up the tips of her fingers. She felt ablazed with rage thinking of only one possible outcome of this situation. Whoever was in there would be rescued and her torturers would find an end that rivalled the wrath of the gods of old. Preparing small bundles from her provisions she mounted her horse again, only to approach the forest as fast as she could.

Night already began to set and although she could see the stars, she knew that there would be no moonlight tonight. Good for her, that would make her approach so much easier. Leaving most of her things behind, she only kept her daggers and a rope. It would be best to leave her horse behind, but chestnut seemed to have a different opinion on that matter. She had learned to trust the instincts of animals so she just creped through the dark forest, searching for the camp of the orcs, whiles her horse followed her silently. She didn’t know exactly what to look for, but her stomach grew more and more uneasy so she just angled into the direction where it got worse. Seeing a glimmer of a campfire in the night she decided to use her surroundings to her advantage. Being a dexterous young woman she climbed the next tree and made her way carefully about three meters above the forest floor.

Without being able to see much, she relied mainly on her sense of touch, when it came to the strength of the branches above or below here and although it took her ten times longer in the air than it would have taken her on the ground, she finally approached the orc-camp. There were about a dozend orcs, eating, laughing and shoving a nearly unconscious figure between them. Now and then hits and punches were thrown, but that didn’t even bring forth any reaction in their prey. Only when one big orc dragged it back and splaying it on the ground did Ranaria realize that the victim was male and not female as she had always assumed.   
She didn’t know why, but that fact somehow made it even worse and for a short moment she had to forcefully swallow down the bile that rose in her throat. Compelling herself to take deep, even breaths all she could do was watch, as the helpless man was ravished again right before her eyes. But charging into the scene at that point would only result in both of their deaths. So she forced herself to stay right where she was, waiting for the night to proceed, waiting for her chance.

>Luck is with the patient ones.<

A sentence she had never completely understood up until that night. It was nearly midnight when the man was finally released and shoved roughly out of the circle. Shaking and weak she watched him crawling over the forest floor, only to break down between the roots of the tree that stood right beside hers. He looked so weak that the rider was sure, he would not be able to take an active role in his rescuing. Her mind raced with the force of a hundred horses and only when the fire had nearly died down completely, she came up with a plan. If he was not able to carry himself she would need to do it for him. She was not a great warrior but she was strong, and the figure on the forest floor seemed so fragile, that he surely wouldn’t weight very much. She didn’t know how long he had been in the clutches of his captures, but he seemed to be near starvation by now. If she couldn’t bring him out now, he surely wouldn’t make it through another week. So riding back to Meduseld and calling for help was not an option.

 She waited for another hour, to make sure that all of the orcs were fast asleep and the guard has nearly dozed off, before uncurling her rope. Binding it onto her tree and climbed to the next, she hooked it into the loop of her belt so that it would come down with her. Descending slowly she kept a constant eye on the orcs by the fire that were no more than a few meters away.  
Touching the ground nearly soundlessly she crouched over the unconscious figure. A quick glance told her, that he was covered in dirt, in dried blood, or both and none of these too options bode well for him, but right now she had other concerns. Covering his mouth and nose with her hand she held him down by the shoulder as he came awake.

Wide and fearful eyes looked at her and she was sure that only the lack of air kept him from crying out. Looking at him calmly she slowly raised her hand from his shoulder, only to cover her lips with her index finger. Eyes closing in defeat told her, that he had understood what she expected from him. A quick glance at the orcs that lay soundly asleep at the fire, assured her, that they were safe for now. So she prepared for a quick departure. Taking his arms she pulled them in front of his body. As far as she could tell neither skin nor bone was broken, but a lot of grime from the forest floor and his capturers kept her from a confirmed judgment.  
Never the less she pulled his underarms next to each other, encircling his elbows with his fingers, before binding his arms together with her belt. For a brief moment he tried to struggle, but a strong tug on his bound arms brought him to a reluctant rest. After being sure, that he was tightly secured she risked another glance around the tree to look at the orcs. Still they were dead out cold and the fire had died down so much that they were enveloped by near complete darkness. But she had her memories of the surrounding and her rope as guidance, so she didn’t doubt her ability to get the two of them out.

Brushing over his face gently, a gesture that was meant to be reassuring, but only made him flinch fearfully, she pushed his arms up and pulled them over her upper body diagonally like she would do with one of her bags. Rising from the ground she grasped that he was even lighter then she had estimated. Climbing up with him on her back would be difficult but manageable. One last glance to the orcs and she grabbed onto the rope to drag herself up. In the middle of the night, in a dark forest there were easier things to do than climbing trees with a deadweight on the back. But never the less she managed, simply because there was no alternative. She would not leave him here. Nor would she be able to slay all of the orcs by herself. So retreat was the only sensible solution.  
Reaching the branch she knew was strong enough to carry them both she allowed herself a moment of rest. So far so good. Up until now the man hadn’t said anything, hadn’t helped but hadn’t struggled either. So either he was terrified by her or too weak. She hoped for the last but feared that the first was much more likely.

Carefully following the lead of her rope, she treated from one tree to the other. Knowing that the next heavy branch was about to brush the bark of the tree she currently sat on ad the height of her waist. So she held on with one hand onto the branch above her, reaching out with her other hand in front.  When she finally found it she sighed in relieve. Only two meters to the ground from that branch. Retreating further to the next bark she then made a small clicking noise with her tongue to summon chestnut. Now she was beyond grateful that her stubborn steed had decided to follow her. Carrying her charge out of the woods would have proven somewhat difficult.  
Her voice was a mere whisper when she turned her head to him.

_“My horse is down there. I will lower us onto its back. Just relax and go with it.”_

She didn’t know if he was unconscious or if he was simply too scared to interact with her. But when she heard the soft thuds of chestnuts steps and smelled his mane did she lower herself down on the limb, sliding onto his back clumsily. Only the bound hands of her charge kept him from falling down, although she could feel that he had parted his legs to sit properly behind her.  
Turning her horse around, Ranaria manoeuvred them closer to the camp. Till the fireplace glowed with the dying ember, that would be enough to spread terror and havoc. Drawing her bow she felt the man behind her freeze, but by now – feeling him secured on her mount behind her – her rage had started to dwell up inside her again. They had invaded her home. Took someone and hurt him, over and over again. That could not continue, would not continue if she had any saying in that matter. Tying a little pouch around the front of her arrow she put the other two she had prepared in her lap. Raising her bow, aiming for the dying ember she said with a vengeful smile:

_“Hold on tight. This is going to be a blaze.”_

before releasing the string and watching the arrow hitting its target. Being filled with dry flour it burst in a raging explosion, raising every last orc from his sleep. Shouts and warnings were heard even from the distance as she used the second bag to ignite the situation further.  Only after the third bag was shot she concentrated on the orcs. Arrow after arrow found its target and only after two free shots were they spotted. Directing her horse only with her legs they took off, all the while Ranaria kept shooting.   
After the second orc had fallen under her ambush did she fell the arms of her protégé tighten around her. For a moment she was afraid, that he might interfere with her plans, but on the contrary, after crouching even closer to her – covering her entire back with his front – did he settle back into a shaky calm, watching each and every orc that fell under her arrow. After having shot the last orc that had retreated to her direction, she grabbed the bridles and took off into the woods, feeling him lower his forehead on her shoulder, dragging himself even closer so that they were practically fused together, all the while, not making a single sound.


	5. First Aid

She knew of a small hut, hidden in a secluded valley at the foot of the mountains, not too far away from Isengard. All through the Riddermark, safe places were spread where the warriors could find rest and make camp on their long journeys. So after retreating from the forest, that was where Ranaria was heading. Her companion gave no indication if he was in pain, agreement or disagreement when she had shared her plan with him. He just clanged onto her, as if his life depended upon it, but never uttered a word.  
A part of her was worried that he was fare more hurt than she had been able to access. But no matter, she needed to get them to safety. She had no illusion that her little trick had cost the lives of all the orcs that had been in Fangorn. It had only worked because it was the night of a new moon and everybody had been asleep or at least very tired. She could not risk waiting for them to get their stuff together. Surely they would be vengeful when robbed of their toy.

So she just repositioned the arms of the man behind her occasionally, before pressuring chestnut for even greater speed. Truly her horse outdid itself on this day and night. Faster than the wind did he carry his heavy load over the land, reaching the hidden passage not long before sunset. It took the young rider some time to find the crevice where they could pass through the mountains into the hidden valley, but when she did, the sky had already begun to turn grey.  
The hut was not very big, maybe enough to harbour a squat of about ten people. It was supplied with the most basic things like dishes and pots, along with weapons oil, threads and needle. Together with the equipment Ranaria had brought with her, they would be well stocked to stay here for a short amount of time, hidden from danger. Never the less she needed to be careful.

Raising the arms of her charge over her head for the first time in hours, she regretted her decision to keep him so tightly bound. Surely by now his arms would be in agony, although he showed no signs of discomfort. Truly, after an initial rebellion to the release, he didn’t show any reaction at all, no comfort, no pain, no feeling whatsoever could be seen on his face or his body. Only a slight trembling was noticeable when she abandoned him on the horseback in the cool morning breeze. Dragging at his limbs carefully she opened her belt, rubbing gently over his lower arms to speed up the blood circulation. Without any resistance and an empty look in his eyes, did he let himself be dragged from the horseback and lead into the main chamber. Enveloping him in her own coat she settled him down right in front of the empty fireplace. He sank down without any resistance.

They would need a fire to keep him warm, to feed him. They would need more banquets. They would need water to clean his body as well as his wounds. They would need candles, they would need, … they would need, … they would need, …  
Opening all of the windows that were available Ranaria took a steadying breath to calm herself down. They had done it, she had done it, going back and coming out again. She had been stronger than her nightmares. She had proven herself against her fears, so she needed to get herself together, because that tormented man, right there needed all the help she could give him. So she took her time in venting the main room, lighting up a blazing fire, filling kettle and pot with water to heat, rubbing down, petting and feeding her horse that had served her so exceptionally well this night, providing him with water, some apples and everything else that was available at this excluded place, before returning with another bucket of water into the main room. The man had not moved since she had set him down. He just looked into the flames, unwavering, unmoving, unheard.

Now that she had time to study him patiently she was even more startled by his lean build and his thin limbs. She retrieved her saddle bags and set them down next to the fireplace, starting to throw a part of her rations into a small pot to cook some stew for him, hoping that he would be able to stomach it. Truthfully getting him cleaned and fed were her main worries. Unsure of how to approach him, she chose a simple and straight forward course. She had been given a deadline by her commander, so she had not much time to go with a slower more gentle method. Her voice was calm and soft as she angled her body towards him.

_“you need to be cleaned. your wounds need to be cared for and you need to be fed. i will care for all these things and i will do that as tenderly as i am able to. but you need to work with me. do you understand?”_

Nothing, not even a shiver or a flinch told her that he had heard her, or that he was able to comprehend her intends. Worried but without any other option Ranaria rose again and removed her armour, cleaning herself before returning to him. Maybe he would need some sustenance before he was able to rise. But the food was not ready yet so all she had to offer was a little wine that she sometimes carried with herself on journeys. Usually during work she didn’t drink alcohol, but on impulse she had brought a small waterskin filled of sweet wine with her. So she grabbed her skin and gently touched his neck, putting it to his lips. Obediently he tilted his head back, taking unbiased what she had to offer. He trembled a little after the first swallow and the female rider got the impression that a part of him yearned to reach out for the offering, getting more of it, but instead he locked down his muscles letting himself be led by her.  
For that gesture alone she felt the urge to ride back to the orcen camp and slaughter every last one of them in the most brutal manner. What had they reduced this person to that he didn’t even allow himself to reach for something as simple as a drink. Although he coughed a little and breathed heavy as the wine set in his stomach, he was able to hold it in. So she decided that his care was overdue.

Rising and taking her cloak from him she looked around the hut. The cool breeze was welcome for her, but it chilled down the camber and the fact that he wore nothing but rags would surely lead to him freezing. So she closed all the windows again, enveloping them in a steady twilight. Needed some light for her examination and care, she tenderly pulled him up by his arm, steadying him, in placing his hands on the heavy stones that surrounded the fireplace. There he stood, like prey for an unknown power, waiting to be struck down or worse.  
Deep down she knew that she would not be able to give him what he needed in the time she was allowed. But she could do her very best before she was forced to leave him in the care of his family. Finding them would prove difficult, but she was sure that – together with help from her friends – they would find his home and keep him safe.

His first true reaction came, when she cut open the last rags that had once been a nice shirt and soft leggings. Inching away from her whimpering, she found that she needed to restrain him in front of the fireplace, but being held down seemed to agitate him even more because for a few moments a true struggle broke out between them.  
But being a warrior and in a far better physical condition than her charge, enabled Ranaria to subdued him fast, pressing his back to her front, holding down his arms crossed over his chest. He shook and made desperate noises and no soothing word that she whispered into his ear seemed to reach him. Finally she went for a harder tone. Forcefully she hissed into his ear:

_“I will do this now. I will clean you and tend to your wounds. I can either do this with you standing in front of the fireplace willingly or bound spread-eagled on the door. What do you prefer?”_

 With a powerful shudder he dropped his head that was nothing more than a mess of hair, pieces of wood, leaves and dirt. Letting himself be manoeuvred to the very same position he had held before he gave up his resistance. Truly relieved that she wasn’t forced to follow through with her thread, Ranaria reached for the hot water she had prepared. Things were bad enough as they were, she didn’t want him to freeze. Truth was, she had said the first thing that had come to her mind, the most horrible thread she could imagine in this situation. But a part of her wasn’t sure if she would have been able to do it, to bind him again when he was finally freed.  
But gratefully he complied and Ranaria started to wash his feet and his legs because she was relatively sure, that they had not been abused too much. She wanted to give him time to get used to her touch before reaching more intimate places. At the beginning he seemed to be locked down again, but after several minutes when she had done nothing but rubbing over his skin with a soft cloth, freeing it of dirt and dried blood, had he relaxed minutely. She had already prepared the salves for his wounds because she didn’t want him the get through this twice. Immediately after cleaning, she dabbed the scratches, welts and cuts, only to let them dry on their own. The place in front of the fire was really the only sensible solution. Here it was warm enough that he wouldn’t freeze too much while she was cleaning and treating him and she had enough light to see what wound she was nursing.

The shaking returned violently as she reached his tights. A part of her wished, prayed, that she could spare both of them this ordeal. But she knew that this wish was in vain. She had seen him being abused, had felt it in her dreams. So there was no way that she could avoid his most intimate parts, although she hated it. Her voice was quiet but strained as she informed him.

_“i will now tend the wounds at your … middle. i try very much not to hurt you, but it may nevertheless. i will not cause you any more harm, i promise.”_

As before he didn’t show any reaction to her words so Ranaria just took a deep breath and went on with her treatment. She just clenched her teeth together, detesting herself for what she had to do. But there was really no way around it so she did it as swiftly and gently as she was able to. Only when she treated his most intimate place with the salve did she hear something. Unable to see his face, covered as it was in hair and grime, she could only hear soft dripping on the floor. He stood there, unmoving just like she had forced him to, but he had not been able to shut anything out yet. Not her touch and not what it meant, or what had made it necessary.  
A part of her loathed herself but she could not allow him to get sick over this, at least not physically if she could prevent it. She heard a nearly inaudible breath when he tried to pull himself together, but all she could do was waiting patiently for his panic to subside. After a few minutes she continued her work on his upper body. Reluctantly he let her take his hands and arms and when she touched his chest he shivered again, turning his head away from her in shame. When she reached his backside she exposed the most delicate picture on his skin. There were vines and a beautifully structured green leaf that sat on his left shoulder blade. There was one thing still incredible beautiful about him and for a mere moment she recalled the words that her mother said to her once:

>You have beautiful eyes Nia. No matter what happened, they could not take that away from you.<

So now, every time when she looked into the mirror, she saw the ugly scar that blemished her face, but at the same time she saw her eyes, untouched by the broken skin, like green-blue-ponds on a summer-afternoon. Tracing the picture with her fingertips she spoke softly:

_“the picture, it is still beautiful. the skin under it is a little swollen, but that will go down in a few days. it will be flawless again, beautiful beyond compare.”_

It was probably just wishful thinking on her part, but with her words, he seemed to relax a little. They had hurt him, stained him, possibly broken him, but a small part of him had survived that. Just like her eyes there was something of him that had not been tainted by their actions. It was not much to hold on to, but the best they had for now. When his skin was mostly cleaned and cared for she reached into her saddle bags for her spare trousers. Judging by visual she decided that they might be a little short for him, but would surely fit around his hips. Helping him into them she was now sure that he was more at ease.

His hair would be another problem. He must be very young, judging by the lack of facial hair. But he had not dared to look at her face properly, so she was not able to confirm her suspicion. Dragging him down to the floor again she finally offered him a portion of the well cooked meat and vegetables, only to pick bits and pieces of wood, chips and leaves from his hair.

At first he had been reluctant when she had placed the bowl and the spoon in his hand. But after a few heartbeats and two probing bites he practically inhaled the food. She had to stop him halfway through the bowl and he had clenched the dish so forcefully that his knuckles had turned white. With a small chuckle she had placed her hand at his neck again, rubbing over the skin at his hairline soothingly.

_“i will not take the food from you. but you need to eat more slowly. you will get sick and everything will go to waste. just take one bite and a time and allow yourself a breath between each mouthful.  
i made more you see. i will give everything to you, bowl after bowl, but only if you can stomach it.”_

When she had drawn back her hand, he had retrieved his spoon and took one bite at a time. Carefully biting and swallowing before he took the next. His hair was nearly free of any pollution when he sat down the bowl and shoved it into her direction cautiously. He had drawn his legs up to his chest and wrapped up his arms around them, as if he wanted to give her as little places to hurt him as possible if he had angered her with the gesture. Again rage welled up inside of her, but Ranaria just took the bowl, filled it again and placed it directly in front of him, petting over his head again, before she resumed her place behind him, starting to coombe through his hair.  
After a heartbeat he relaxed a little and picked up the bowl again, continuing his meal. Soon the woman came to the conclusion that his tangled strands could not be unwound. They needed to be washed. There was still enough water left so she explained to him and he let himself be turned and placed over the kettle. In a steady tide she picked up water and let it flow over his head. It took a rather long time but finally she could make out his light-blonde strands under all the grime. Only then, for the first time since she had met him, did his ears come into full view. Bouncing back from him as if he had just drawn a sword at her, her words sounded more like an accusation, as she declared:

_“BY THE VALAR, YOU’R AN ELF!”_


	6. Unexpected Company

Retreating until her back hit the door all Ranaria could do was lower her head, enveloping it with her hands because the thoughts inside it, threatened to tear it open.

   She had touched an elf, a member of the noblest race in middle earth.

      She had bound him and dragged him through the woods.

         She had touched him in places that were rarely appropriate to be touched by another human, but an elf …

The possible consequences of her actions threaten to overwhelm her, so she just stood there, breathing hard, searching for a way that her impertinence would not fall back onto her people. But then … after long moments, she raised her head again and looked up to the elf. He was not in front of the fireplace anymore and it took her an instant to spot him in the corner of the hut. He had hurled into a corner, curled into himself as much as possible and protecting his head with quivering arms. Seeing this heart-breaking picture Ranaria calmed instantly.  
He might be an elf, she might be a human, but right now that didn’t matter, not in the slightest. He had been hurt and she was here to help. There would be consequences to her actions, but she would face them, when the time came.

Approaching him slowly as she would a frightened animal, she lowered herself onto her knees in front of him. She made small soothing noises as she touched the back of his head again. He reacted as if she had slapped him, curled up even tighter, and that made her want to go after that bastards who had done this to him with ferocity, but she just kept her hand at his hairline, stroking comfortingly over it. After a while she started to speak soft and kindly:

_“i’m sorry … i am really sorry … I should not have shouted at you. i just …”_

Then she stopped, because a horrible thought occurred to her. He had always complied with her wishes, but that might have been because she had used her body to make it clear what she expected. She had manoeuvred him to the fireplace, stood him up right in front of it and had held him down as he endangered himself with the desire for food. Every gesture had been very clear. He had not necessarily reacted to the word she had said. What if … ?

_“can … oh please … can you understand me?”_

Despair threatened to overcome her yet again and she let herself slump into the wall right next to him. She hit the wall with her head several times, as if the cold stone might be able to knock some sense into her. But of course that didn’t do her any good, except threatening her with a headache. She pulled up her legs slightly only to look at the wooden floor between them, as if the wooden boards might hold some answers. Finally she just rested her arms on her knees and her forehead on her forearms. Some time passed and only the quiet of their surroundings, allowed her to register a single, whispered syllable.  
Raising her head she looked at her charge in wonder. Had he just said something? She regarded him inquisitively for several moments and finally he raised his head a little, allowing himself to look at her through soaked strands of hair. His voice was a mere whisper and so rough as if he had used it only for screaming over an extended amount of time. But Ranaria understood him never the less as he whispered:

“yes … i can.”

For several moments she didn’t allow herself to react at all, scared to frighten him away, after he had finally spoken to her. Tenderly she reached out again and was amazed that he did not only tolerate her touch at his neck without recoiling, but that he somehow seemed to lean into it a fraction. That was good. That was very good. That was an amazing start. After several minutes in companionable silence Ranaria decided that they should finish washing his hair as she heard riders approaching. It took her only moments to evaluate the situation. They were at a safe house, a hidden safe house so she was pretty sure, that the incoming men were Rohirim as well. But her situation was far from easy and – all things considered – she felt better if no one would find out the race of her charge. Rising swiftly she grabbed her coat and flung it over him, pulling up the hood to hide him from view. She touched him softly and spoke urgently:

_“Listen, this is a safe place, a place known only to my people. But whoever this is to me, friend or foe, I will not allow them to touch you.  
Do you understand? No one will be touching you but me. I swear that on my mother’s grave. You have to believe me!”_

With the vow she had pulled out her dagger, putting it to her heard, as if wanting to show that she was willing to protect him with everything she had. For a brief moment she called herself stupid, for he would surely not appreciate the gesture. But the opposite proved to be true. The glittering metal seemed to draw his eyes to it and he nodded slowly. So she lowered herself into a half crouch, one hand right in front of her, the armed one behind her back, in his plain sight, but hidden from her people.   
He was hidden half behind her and could not be made out at the first glance, by the guards that stepped over the threshold. The two riders looked at her in wonder but she used their puzzlement to her advantage and spoke fast:

_“There were a bunch of orcs in the Fangorn forest nearby. My friend here had been held captive by them and now I am just making sure that he gets into a state where he travel, before I return him to his family.”_

_“Do you need any help?”_

A polite but firm shake of her head told the guards everything the needed to know. Combined with her body language and the hooded figure that cowered behind her, they soon comprehended that their presence was not appreciated. Worried about the young female in front of them the bigger of the two couldn’t help but stress their offer for help, be it supplies or otherwise. Being a practical woman Ranaria smiled and nodded her head slightly upon asking:

_“I could do with some arrows if you have any to spare. Mine were taken by some orcs, mostly through the chest or into the head.”_

She winked at them good natured and of course her plea was answered. With a good dozend arrows, she felt grateful and offered her brothers in arms the remnants of the meal. But they truly got the situation, especially because the figure behind her has not moved at all, since they had entered the cabin. Quickly they made inventory of everything that was available, so the hut could be restocked, and departed.

_“Do you want to send a message to Meduseld? We will return there tomorrow.”_

Ranaria quickly thought of anything she might have to say to her commander or her father but after a moment she just smiled gratefully and shook her head.

_“If the commander of the arrow-squad asks you for my location you are welcome to reveal it. But I guess he already knows. So there is nothing that needs to be said additionally.”_

_“Very well, so farewell sister. I hope we will see you and your friend in the golden hall soon.”_

As her brothers in arms left, Ranaria turned and looked with amazement at the man in the corner. For the last several minutes she had felt something soft stroking over the inside of her wrist. She knew what he saw, knew it far too well because it was the reason she preferred shirts and dresses with long sleeves, even in the summer heat. There were scars from rope burns encircling her entire wrist, actually both of them. Scars she had caused herself, when she had desperately tried to get away from her tormentors five years ago. But her body still remembered, no matter how much her mind wanted to forget. Slowly she lowered her hand and put away her blade again and dragging reflexively on her sleeves, before pulling back his hood. Her voice was soft again when she said:

_“i think we should finish with your hair so that you can get some rest.”_

Either he was placated by her open display of protectiveness towards him, or he had retreated into the role of the unresisting servant again, not wanting to risk anything. No matter what, his hair was washed quickly and combed carefully by her. Only when the hair was mostly dry – it nearly reached is waist so that took a while – did Ranaria grab her second piece of spare clothing and held it out to him. As it was with the trousers, the arms of her shirt might be too short for him. But after everything he had been through, a few centimetres of linen would surely be no problem us long as he was mostly covered. Rolling out her bedroll she patted it twice to show him that he was meant to sleep there, before sharing the last bowl of stew with him.   
After eating and drinking some water she rose to clean out the dishes. He had already rolled himself into a tight ball onto the blanket but as she left the hut he made a small noise. Smiling Ranaria explained:

_“I will only go out and wash the dishes and get some fresh water, in case one of us gets thirsty during the day. I will be back momentarily.”_

Leaving the door open, so that he could see her, she quickly rinsed out the kettle, the pod as well as the bowls they had used. She checked on chestnut who seemed happy enough to enjoy the free day, nibbling on the grass and weed that surrounded the hut, only to return with a bucket of fresh water. Upon entering the room she realized, that the man had angled himself towards the door and looked for her wearily. Only when her eyes fell on him did he lower his gaze and turned around shivering. Remembering her first day back at home much to vividly she set down the water and took of her shoes. She retrieved her coat from the corner only to place herself behind him, connecting his backside with her front, covering them both with her mantle.   
At first he went dead still at her approach, but when she didn’t make any further gestures than aligning them for a comfortable sleep did he relax gradually. Ranaria lay awake for more than one hour before she was sure that sleep had finally claimed him. Only then did she relax enough to sink down into the first peaceful sleep she has had for the past week.


	7. Revelations

Carefully retreating from him, Ranaria reached for her boots, to leave the hut. Once outside she could see that the sky had already begun to lighten, sunrise was upon them. But although that meant that she had slept for nearly 20 hours – or at least lain on the floor for that amount of time – she did not feel as rested as she had hoped. Truth was, she felt more anger today than she had yesterday. The desire to hit someone, preferably an orc, or something, preferably hard, dominated her entire body.  
Not only had nightmares plagued his sleep, he had barely been able to tolerate her touch when in the clutches of such horrors. Only shaking him awake, made sure that he was able to take in his surroundings and calm down. But the worse of all was, that he had not uttered a single word, shed not a single. He kept everything inside, didn’t talk, didn’t shout, didn’t cry. That was definitely not normal and Ranaria was more than overstrained with the situation. How should she help someone that wouldn’t allow himself the most natural reactions when coping with such hurtful events?

Afraid she might snap at him at some point because she was so strained, she rubbed the sleep from her face, before taking in the surroundings of their residence. There were big chunks of wood nearby and a proper pile of wood, stacked against the side of the building. So there was an outlet for her agitation. Tip-toeing inside she grabbed the small axe that hung next to the door, only to put the first piece onto the trunk that was clearly meant as a block for wood-chopping.  
She took a few good swings before letting the axe fall down. Her body was not used to this kind of work, but after only a short time she felt her muscles loosen and allowed herself to relax with the monotonous work. It took some time and the sun already had risen in the sky when she allowed herself a break, only to realize that her charge leaned against the doorframe and watched her cautiously. He stepped back a little as he saw her noticing him, as if he was not sure that he was allowed outside. She was about to comment on his action when she heard a shrill screech above her.

Smiling she took the piece of cloth that she had used to rub her face and dry her hands and wound it around her hand before shouting:

_“Come on. I can see you and you surely have woken every last inhabitant in this valley.”_

She laughed a little as her falcon took a sharp dive at her and only held out her hand to him. She knew him well enough to be sure, that he would never hurt her, not as long as she didn’t do anything to deserve it. True, parts of her fingers were covered in little welts from his sharp claws, but he was a beast after all and being “careful” was not in his nature. Approaching the elf with her animal-friend she just looked at the two of them. The bird was surely noisy about her companion and the man seemed to be fascinated with the beautiful creature. Boldly, fare bolder than he was with her, did he reach out to pet the feathers on its chest, only to draw noises of approval from the animal. Ranaria smiled and said:

_“Get my glove and you can hold him, while I make breakfast.”_

Without heeding her instruction the man just held out his hand to take the falcon from her. Ranaria was truly amazed to see the confidence with which her charge was able to handle the bird and even more, when she realized that her feathery friend did not hurt his fingers in the slightest. These people truly were astounding when it came to their affinity for the nature. So for now she let the males be and cared for more “womanly” duties.   
After preparing breakfast she carried everything outside, to coax the man to leave the hut. Sitting in the sunlight would do him good, especially since he seemed to feel better outside. Feeling the need to push back chestnut several times, she finally gave in, left her breakfast to feed him again. There was more than enough grass around to satisfy him, but he still insisted on her care and after everything that has happened, he surely deserved it. When she returned to the breakfast the falcon was gone and he sat quietly in the sun, having not eaten another bite, since she had gone. As before he only took what she offered and although it annoyed her slightly it didn’t bother her too much. She had more than a week left to restore his confidence before she needed to return to her people. It worried her a little what she should do with him. She couldn’t exactly take him with her.

But apart from these unpleasant thoughts the day passed by with relative ease and even when she left him for a few hours in the afternoon to go hunting, he did not seem too disturbed. Wanting to share her prey with him she positioned a small rabbit in front of the fireplace, accompanied by a single knife, because she planned to skin it before cooking. Seeing the dead animal and the knife in front of him the man suddenly started to shake violently. Never the less did he took hold of the knife and started the work of skinning the rabbit. When Ranaria returned to him – having washed away the dirt from the hunt at the well – she was completely taken aback by the picture he presented. Distressed beyond belief his fingers shook so violently, that the female warrior was not sure, that he would not hurt himself within an instant. Talking to him to calm him down didn’t seem to be of any use, so she approached him carefully and put her hand on his arm to still him. But it turned out that THAT was exactly the wrong thing to do, because with a powerful recoil, did he cut open his hand with the sharp tool, only to hurl into himself again as he had yesterday when she had shouted at him. Only then did Ranaria remember the dream she have had two days ago. The rabbit, the skinning, the fun and torment they had set upon him, and she had brought up that scene to the forefront of his mind again. Stupid, stupid, stupid girl!

Snatching the knife from him she put her fingers on the only free skin that lay unprotected. Stroking his neck tenderly she whispered:

_“i did not want to startle you. and what you are doing is my work. i am here to care for you, remember? i will provide, food, care, medicine, whatever you need. and no matter what you do I will not hurt you, i promise. all right?_

Petting him softly, allowing him time to return from the dark forest and the orcs, she repeated her speech again and again until he slowly calmed down and leaned into her touch slightly. Going with an impulse she just pushed out one leg from herself and put it at his back so that he could rest against it. Again it took some time … a rather long time, but finally he allowed himself to settle against her body. He was still weary and clearly more than a little anxious about what she might do. But when she didn’t do anything he finally let his guard down and lay down on the floor beside her, resting his head on her tight.   
That was a huge progress so Ranaria took her time, weaving her fingers through his hair, caressing his neck soothingly before returning to the task at hand. The blade and the blood did not seem to upset him in the slightest because he watched her work with observant eyes, before drawing back a little as she was forced to move while putting everything into the pot to cook it. She had already laid out some vegetables she intended to cut for the stew, but when she looked for them she found her companion had already taken care of the chopping for her. Calmed down he seemed to be pretty good with a blade, although his fingers still had to ache a little.

The evening went by without another incident as did the night. Ranaria was amazed that he had found it in him to trust her so easily. Because when they lay down on the bedroll again did he seek out her touch without further encouragement from her. Apart from occasional nightmares the night was undisturbed and Ranaria felt a huge relieve the next morning. Remembering a small pool nearby she asked him if he wanted to go for a bath. The water would be cold, but the weather was quite hot at that time of the year, so she was sure that they wouldn’t freeze too much. Gathering the supplies she would need for his wounds and the soap she would need for her body, they wandered across the valley and it took them more than an hour to reach the water. It was clear and cold and lay very secluded, enclosed by heavy boulders with smooth surfaces that stored the heat of the sun. All in all a perfect place for a bath.

Seeing his reluctance to shed his clothes Ranaria decided to go first. Remembering what he might see if he looked at her made her uneasy and she drew in her shoulders and started to question her idea to come here. At home she preferred to bath alone, but didn’t hesitate to use an opportunity like this, even with her squad around. They knew her, they knew what had brought here into their midst and none of them had ever uttered a single word when it came to her scars.  
So after a moment she shook her head in anger. She was who she was and if he didn’t like it, he needed to look the other way. As if sensing her anger he retreated a little, allowing her to undress down to her loincloth and wading into the water. It was cold, but oh so refreshing. Ranaria allowed herself a few strong pulls to cross the pond, before returning to her supplies. Fishing for the soap she started to clean herself in earnest. She heard him approaching but if he was disturbed by the marks that marred her back he didn’t say anything. He only dipped into the water not far from her, all the while lowering his head so that he wouldn’t look upon her. Seeing his reflection she became aware that his eyes were closed. So she didn’t feel the desire to look upon himself either.

She started to clean him gently. Rubbing the soap over his long hair and his head, she massaged his scalp with soothing motions only to dip him back into the water tenderly to get rid of the lather. Afterwards she smiled at him and pushed the bar into his hand. It would do him good to clean himself. There were a lot of things he might want to wash of. Shivering she retreated out of the water and splayed herself onto one of the boulders, untangling her own hair and combing it dry. She took her time with it because she needed to admit to herself that her charge might be a beautiful view, once he was healed again. Resting her head in her hand she took in his body. He needed to eat but there was an underlying strength in his body that would surely show soon. When he wasn’t aware of being watched he was elegant, even graceful in his movements and the green leaf on his shoulder blade was a true work of art.  
She wondered where he had come from and what had brought him to Fangorn and into the claws of the orcs. There were only two woods nearby that held residences of elves: Lorien and Mirkwood. But she had heard that most of the elves of Lorien had left to retreat over the great see. She didn’t know where they went or why they would leave their home, in the stories it only was tradition for the fair folk, there was no explanation for it. So Mirkwood was the more likely home for her charge. That was truly a beautiful picture on his back and she felt herself drawn to whisper:

_“… greenleaf …_

Something about that sounded familiar but she didn’t know what. Truth to be told she only knew the names of three elves. There was Galadriel the mistress of Lorien, powerful and eternally beautiful. There was Elrond, the master of Rivendell and the father of the queen of Gondor, and there was of course Arwen his kind and lovely daughter. Smiling she shook her head as she remembered that there was a fourth elf whose name she knew and suddenly all warmth left her body. Again she studied her charge with cautious eyes, the elf in question had been a companion of the ring bearer. He had stood at his side, together with a dwarf and the king of Gondor himself. Now she suddenly knew why “Greenleaf” sounded so familiar to her. Her voice was barely more than a whisper when she concluded:

_“You are Legolas Greenleaf, the prince of Mirkwood.”_

He went dead still in the middle of the pond, half covered in soap and on the other half his bruises and injuries clearly showed as he declared:

_“I am no prince.”_

before resuming his washing with vigour. He had disputed his title, but not his name so Ranaria could only deduce that she was right. By the Valar, what had she gotten herself into? He was a prince, maybe the future heir of his people. How would they deal with that? How should he deal with that? He needed help, so much more help than she was able to give him.   
He stood in the cold water for nearly an hour, obviously unwilling to get out of it, to confront her beliefs or act on them. Only when she declared that they would go, did he retreat. As she tended to his wounds he stood defeated and with his head dropped down. But when she reached his backside did he tense up immediately, tenderly Ranaria reached out for his hand and weaved her fingers into his, holding him, steadying him before she made a quick dip into his body, so that these wounds were taken care of. She allowed him some time to calm down, unmoving, holding his hand in her own for as long as it took before tending to the rest of his wounds and helping him with his clothes.

On their way back to the hut none of them said a single word. But his proximity suggested that he didn’t want them to be separated. His fingers even reached for hers, but he drew back immediately, as if embarrassed by the gesture. So Ranaria positioned her equipment in her left hand and weaved their fingers together again. Relaxed by their joining they continued their way. Upon their return to the hut she just stashed away the medicine only to stare into the dying fire. After some time the elf sat beside her and rested his head on her shoulder.  
Over the past two days a comfortable silence has established between them, but now she was unsure how to proceed and he was uneasy because of that. Finally she realized that she could never force him to return to his people, so she voiced her opinion silently:

_“You don’t want to go back to your family.”_

A quick shake of his head confirmed her suspicion. So she needed to find someone else. Thinking of her home and her own family she suddenly laughed and shook her head unbelievingly. There was one, really close by, who was in a position to help him. Who had means to no end and an extensive knowledge of the elfish ways!  
So she turned and kissed him gently on the head before pulling a piece of cloth from her bag. Reaching into the fireplace she produced a piece of coal to draw something on the fabric. Outside she whistled for her falcon. He was no carrier pigeon, but he knew where her home was. Whispering is destination into his ears; knotting the cloth to his leg, she let him nibble her fingers affectionately before taking of. When she returned into the hut she felt a sudden sadness overwhelm her and from his closing in on her he shared the sentiment. If he was interested in the recipient of her plea for help he didn’t ask for it.

After dinner, when they lay side by side on the bedroll in the relative dark, did he muster the courage to ask in a hush:

_“Am I such a burden to you?”_

Taken aback by the mere thought of that, she closed her arms around him and held him tight. Kissing his hair and stroking him tenderly she answered:

_“No, not at all. You must never think that! It’s just … you need so much more than I can give you. Whatever happened, I don’t understand you … your culture, your people … good enough to be adequate for you.”_

It was her. It was all her and the thought that he might take her plea for help as his own shortcoming was nearly unbearable to her. He couldn’t think that. Not ever!  
She shook a little with her upwelling emotions, as he reached for her hand and drew his fingertips over the scars on her wrist. After a moment of thought he stated:

_“You understand well enough.”_

But after that he just clasped her hand into his own and drew it up to his chest, resting his head on her other arm that she had placed under it as a cushion. There was nothing to be said or done. She didn’t share his believes, couldn’t because she was just a broken female rider and he was a prince of the elves. There was no way she would ever be enough for him, no matter what kind of experience they shared. He needed someone who knew him, who understood and who took him in without expectations. She was sure that the king of Gondor, who – to her knowledge still stayed with her people – could provide that.


	8. An old Friend

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Took me some time to get back online. I have had a wonderful holiday and although a small part of my mind was left behind in middle earth, the majority was enjoying rain, wind and storm in Ireland. Hope you guys had a nice week too.

The night had been calmer than she had expected, no nightmares burdened him, no shivering woke her up due to their proximity. It had taken her a rather long time to find some rest herself, but every time she woke up, he lay calm in her arms, unmoving, just breathing evenly and only in the morning, when his breathes had been deeper than before did she realize that he might not have slept at all. He had clanged onto her all through the dark hours as if he was afraid that she would leave him when he wasn't holding on. How could she ever express, that that was the last thing she wanted to do? That she wished with all her heart that she would be able to help him, to simply be enough. But she knew far too well that this was simply impossible.  
He was a member of an eternal race and she ... she was just a woman who couldn't deal with her life when defenceless. Everything about her was being capable and strong and now, when she wanted it the most, she simply had no means for it. So in the morning she separated herself from his still sleeping figure and left to get some water and berries for breakfast.

Upon her return he already sat in front of a new fire. A cup of water in his hand he stared into the flames. He ate what she gave him, complied with her suggestions, but never came close, never touched her again. She was well aware why he acted that way. He had voiced his wishes and she had sent for someone regardless of them. She would not be around much longer, so there was no use for him to draw comfort from a presence he would soon loose. She tried to talk to him, to explain, but he had just stared into the fire, ignoring her completely. It broke her heart to see him like that, to be unable to reach him but she knew that she had made the only reasonable decision. The king was his friend. That would be worth so much more.  
He had a city with walls and guards to protect him, healers to care for him. Although the thought that someone else tending him made her uneasy. Never the less it was the right thing to do. So when he continued to ignore her, she simply left the hut and looked for something to occupy her time. There were some bushes close by, so she gathered as many fruits as possible. If he was about to travel a long distance, he would need the sustenance. As before he ate dutiful what she offered, but not more.

It was way into the afternoon; she had climbed onto the roof to clean away leaves and empty bird nests, when she heard horses approach. At first it was one, lonely figure, clad in the dark green clothes of the rangers, leaping of his steed and made his way to the door of the cabin with wide strides.

_"Stop right there. Step back and turn around!"_

Carefully the armed man retreated and held up his hands, without looking up to the roof where she stood and threatened him with a small axe in her hand. It had been the only weapon within reach and Ranaria now cursed herself for her carelessness. His voice came calm but impressive as he asked in a low tone:

_"Why have you called for me if you don't want me here?"_

He raised the piece of cloth she had used for her message. On one side it held the insignia of the Lord Aragorn, on the other a leaf she had drawn. It was a little smutched, but still clearly visible and a very accurate replica of the picture that sat on the elf’s shoulder. Beneath it the words "Please help. Come alone!" were clearly written. Sharp words broke her train of thought:

_"Ra! How dare you?!"_

Captain Theron had ridden not far behind the king and was accompanied by two members of the royal guard as well as two Rohirim. He looked at her equally angry and bewildered. So she just jumped down from the roof and put aside her improvised weapon. She had wanted his, asked for this, but now, that she was about to leave her charge in the care of another, she wasn't so sure any more. It felt too much like abandoning him. So when the king stepped forward again, she placed herself between him and the door. Her words were silent, only meant for him.

_"Don't touch him. Whatever you do Lord Aragorn, please don't touch him."_

Clearly irritated and worried by her request the man pushed her out of the way and entered the hut. She could hear voices. Well she could hear the king’s voice, speaking soft, melodic words. His tone was inquisitive but there was no response. After a few moments two men re-emerged from the cabin. The Lord was clearly angry, though he kept his feelings on a tight leash. He mounted his steed and held out his hand for his friend who had followed him with an empty face and vacant eyes. She saw him holding out his hand but her charge ... former charge ... only shook his head and climbed up behind him. It would be a long way, tiresome for both of them and maybe even cold. On impulse Ranaria rushed inside to fetch her coat.   
She stepped into their path and approached the elf. She flung her coat over his shoulders so that he would be warm during their journey, carefully avoiding touching him. Only when she retreated could she feel his slender fingers wrapping themselves around her wrist. He drew her hand up to his cheek and she could feel the ghost of his breath wash over her skin. Unmoving she just stood there and allowed both of them this last comfort. His words were nearly inaudible when he spoke.

_"Thank you"_

_"You are welcome."_

It was a phrase; just an empty phrase but there was nothing else to be said. There simply were not enough words to express what she felt, what she wished for him and what she hoped for his future. So she just stood back and watched the king leave with his man entail.

The words of her captain were harsh and shocked as he asked in an accusing tone:

_"What the hell have you done Ranaria? An elf? Do you even understand what this could mean for our people? What if the elf’s of the northern woods are angry about this? What if they hold us responsible? What did you think when you brought him here? Hell, did you even think at all?"_

And suddenly it was too much. The pressure, the responsibility, the aching inside her, the emptiness the men’s departure had left in her chest. So she did the only thing she could, she lashed out forcefully:

_"What I have done was aiding someone! Someone I could help! A victim I could safe and support after being hurt every bit as much as I have been, and if you think for one bloody minute past all the politics and implications this might have on us, you will realize that you would have done exactly the same. You would not have cared if it was male or female; human, elf or even a dwarf!_

_You “captain” would have moved heaven and earth to help in every way you could, and because of that you are the man I love the most in my life after my father. Yet ... I really don't like you at the moment!"_

After a deep steadying breath she just shook her head and lowered her shoulders in defeat. Her voice was tired and utterly empty as she murmured:

" _I will get my things."_

The two day journey back to Edoras passed in silence. None of the four riders felt the desire to talk about what had happened, and when they returned to the golden hall they just reported back and retreated to their homes. The queen of Gondor had left the day before, so there was no one to be told what had happened. If the elf’s or the king of Gondor were angry, they would voice that in due time. Until then, they went to work, to training, on patrol as if nothing had happened. The pain about what she had done a near constant companion in Ranarias heart.


	9. A request

It took but two days for her father to confront her about her misery. Although her nights were undisturbed, Ranaria just couldn't shake of what had happened. Would there be consequences for her people? Had her actions brought up unforgivable conflicts between Rohan and the nations beyond their borders? And most important of all: How was her elf? She wasn't there any more, couldn't help him, care for him, protect him and the uncertainty about his wellbeing ate her up little by little from the inside out. She sat on a bench behind their home, two days after her return and turned a cup of herbal brew in her hand, again and again and again, not really noticing, for her thoughts were so far away in a never visited kingdom.   
Her father’s arm around her shoulder took her by surprise but she leaned into his embrace immediately. His words were soft and worried as he asked:

_"What's up Nia? Since your return I have not once seen you smiling let alone laugh. What worries you?"_

_"What if everything I have done was wrong? What if I have made the false decision about helping him myself and not calling for his people right from the start?"_

_"Would he have had the strength to travel to his people; to deal with them? I have heard he has a rather important position in his realm. Would he have been able to live up to their expectations?"_

Ranaria didn't even have to think about the answers. He had been in no position to stand on his own feet, let alone deal with anybody. So she shook her head rather empathically.  
Her father smiled and continued is little inquisition:

_"What is the motto of our soldiers?"_

_"We guard and protect, with blade and body!"_

_"Have you guarded him?"_

His daughter nodded.

_"Have you protected him, to the best of your abilities, with your blade and your body?"_

Another nod.  
Her father only smiled in response and kissed his daughters gold and brown hair and whispered:

_"Then you have done exactly what you are meant to do. Nothing else matters Ranaria. It's not about kingdoms. It's not about politics. For us it's just about people. No matter where they come from, they are the only things that are truly important."_

Relieved the woman just slid down and placed her head into her father’s lap. As he had started so many years ago he petted her hair as the two of them watched the sunset. Only when it became too cold to remain outside did they retreat into their home.

The female rider became calmer after that talk. She cared for her work and her chores, worrying about her charge but she had lost the doubts about her actions. She had done what she had been trained for, to the best of her abilities. When someone called her on that she would be able to defend herself.   
So being called to the palace nearly a fortnight after her return she expected questions, maybe even a rebuff or a punishment. What she didn't expect was a fierce discussion between the king and Theron. Lord Faramirs words were angry and expectant as he said:

_"A servant girl. They are asking about a servant girl, so don't tell me there has not been one! The queen of Gondor state’s her wishes quite clearly in her letter."_

_"And I tell you my Lord, the only person who ever came into contact with that elf was Ranaria! The cabin is empty for the most part of the year, why would we keep servants there?"_

Confused Ranaria watched the two men and was nearly taken by surprise when the queen approached her. She held her hands out and asked in a friendly but firm tone:

_"Ranaria, please show me your wrists."_

Reluctant and confused the young woman looked upon her captain, who had stopped his arguing with the king. Both men watched her expectantly. So Ranaria opened her bracers and held out her hands to her queen. Gently Eowyn enclosed them with her fingers and her thumbs brushed slightly over the scars that encircled her wrists. Her voice was calm and silent as she asked:

_"Are these from the time when you were ... taken?"_

A brief nod and the young rider was released again. The queen returned to the throne and sat on it, looking upon the letter she held in her hand. Thoughtful she said:

_"It seems that the man you saved is not as well of as we might wish. Therefore the queen askes for you - for I am sure now that calling his saviour a "servant girl" can only be a misunderstanding - to come to the white city. Maybe they have more questions about the source of his injuries."_

Wild hope to see her charge again flared in Ranarias chest. Instantly she was upon her queen, kneeling on the floor right before her. Desperate she took hold of her hands and begged:

_"Let me go there Mylady, please I beg you! I will do everything my queen, but please allow me to ride to Minas Tirith. Please!"_

The last word was spoken in a mere whisper, desperate and pleading. Smiling the queen of Rohan rose from her seat and lifted Ranaria up with her. She looked at her husband and the captain of the arrow-squad before she decided:

_"We will send you to Gondor; place you directly under the king’s command. Legolas is Aragorns friend; if you can persuade him that you can help him I am sure that he will accept your support. But remember, you are a rider of Rohan, no matter what happens, all of Gondor will look upon you as such."_

_"So be it."_

The Lord Faramir had stepped up to his wife and put an arm around her waist to show his support of her decision. Ranaria bowed gratefully before both of them. Looking upon her captain she asked:

_"When will I leave?"_

_"As soon as we are ready."_


	10. Arriving

The roads now were safer than ever, but a trip like that would still need some preparation and it had been decided that the young archer should not make it alone. Ranaria had packed everything even remotely necessary. When she realized that she would only burden her horse she removed about half of the contents of her bags. She would ride in full mail, so there was no use in packing an additional one. She might need a dress, but one would absolutely be sufficient. An extra set of clothes and some soft boots along with a few medical supplies and her basic gear like a small pot and dishes she always carried with her when leaving the town for more than a day used up only half of her saddle bags. Supplies for such a long journey would use up the rest of the space but they would diminish over time. When her captain informed her of her departure the day after tomorrow she was more than surprised to hear that she would ride with the Lord Eomer, the Leader of their army and the brother of the queen. He would inspect their borders and make sure that everything was in order.  
Although Ranaria was aware that such an action was necessary, she had never known that it would take so much manpower. Over two dozend armed men were ready when she left the stables two days after the encounter with her majesties. Wordlessly she stood in line for the inspection and lowered her head respectfully when the Lord Eomer was looking over her. If he had been made aware of her mission - and being the queen’s brother Ranaria highly doubted that he wouldn't - he gave no indication. So she just followed the best way she could.

Only a few of the man looked at her more than once and nearly none of them spoke to her more than what was strictly necessary. After two days ride Ranaria dared to ask permission if she was allowed to hunt nearby. Returning with a small wild pig the soldiers looked upon her with new found respect, but they still refrained from looking at her face too much. So after she had cleaned her dishes after the meal she kept her distance. Her looks made the men uneasy, so why stress that point. She was astonished when she was joined by the Lord who asked with a simple gesture if he was allowed to sit with her. Of course Ranaria agreed.

_"You wish hunt for them, but you don't want to sit with the men?"_

Embarrassed by the implication Ranaria shook her head vehemently.

_"No, not at all it's just ... my look makes them uneasy. I don't want that for them. The days are hard enough so I thought they should be able to relax in the evening at least. Not caring where they look or what they talk about."_

_"So if I understand you correct you don't care about the way you look, you just care that they do?"_

As Ranaria nodded with an uncertain gesture the Lord shook his head.

_"Then why do you lower your head every time you remove your helmet Ranaria? Why don't you bind back your hair and look straight at everyone, letting them decide if they like what they see or not, instead of letting it cover your face?  
Are you really sure that THEY are the ones who are uneasy? Because from my point of view no one even spared you a second glance."_

After that Eomer stood up and returned to the fire, Ranaria just sat there and stared after him. She had never given any thought to how the people saw here in her own squad. They had trained together for so long and Ranaria was sure of her abilities with a bow. Most of them even knew why she was with them. They didn't talk to her about it. When it came to the inevitable teasing among fighters, the fact that she was a woman was more than enough to joke about. She was not ashamed about that, so it didn't hurt her. She felt safe with them and secure in her doings. These soldiers were a completely different story.   
These were people who had fought in the war. They were heroes in her eyes. Why should they care about a scar faced girl? On the other hand, why should they really? She was just another soldier to tag along on their way, maybe the captain was right, maybe she was the problem and then others really didn't care.

Smiling at her own stupidity she shook her head. What should happen, someone throwing her weird looks? That happened all the time, nothing to worry about. But maybe they truly didn't care. A soldier with a scar was not that much of a novelty. With a deep breath she rose from her seat and grabbed her helmet, brushing her hair back, she made her way to the campfire and stepped up to the people. As it would have been with her squad, there was made some space for her without a word. When a skin of wine was passed she was included in the offering as if it was the most natural thing in the world. Wordlessly she took the offer and saluted Lord Eomer with a small smile. He just copied the gesture with a wink before continuing a conversation with one of his soldiers.  
As they lay side by side for sleeping one of the younger soldiers - a handsome man with a vicious scar covering the better part of his chin and neck - asked her silently:

_"Who did you fight?"_

While dragging his fingers over the left side of his face. Smiling Ranaria answered:

_"Orcs"_

It had never occurred to her, that for the most people, people that didn't know her, scars were only received during fights. A reasonable assumption when regarding that she was indeed a warrior.

_"Did you win?"_

_"Well ... yes I guess you could say that. After all, they are dead and I am alive."_

Grinning the man just laughed and offered his wrist to her. When she held out her own arm their wrists touched in an equivalent of a “high-five” before turning around and closing his eyes. Relaxed and much more at ease than she had been before, Ranaria just pulled up her hands and snuggled the scarred side of her face into them. The orcs were dead and she was alive. Her companion was absolutely right, in the end that was the only thing that mattered.

When they reached the end of the great west road Ranaria slowly approached the leading riders from her position at the tail of their track. The borders of Rohan flew seamlessly into those of Gondor so there was no need for her people to accompany her any further. When Lord Eomer let her go many of the riders bid her farewell with a respectful gesture and some reassuring words. Only the youngest of them lingered a little and told her:

_“When you reach the city make a face and growl to some of their children.  
Within a day the stories will fly, that we have fearsome maiden warriors fighting for us and the entire kingdom will envy the Rohirrim.”_

With a wink he enclosed her underarm with his strong hand and Ranaria just laughed, returning the gesture. The story how she had gotten her scars had become more and more fantastic every time the soldiers had speculated about it at the campfire. She had never told anyone and the others had sensed that it would be far too personal to make her tell. But the speculations had never the less amused them, and she had come close to slaying a dragon in their stories. A girl could only be flattered by such scenarios. She when they parted in good faith the archer resented to see them go. But then she remembered why she was on her way and suddenly she couldn’t reach Minas Tirith fast enough.   
Chestnut flew over the fields that now surrounded the white city and the sun had not yet begun to set when she reached the gate.


	11. Promises

 

 

She had made herself a little presentable, cleaned her chain-mail and herself at a river close by. She also had put on her helmet and covered her shining mail with the tabard of Rohan. Made of a dark green material with a shining white horse, did it cover her torso and back and showed even from a distance where her loyalties lay. The guards at the door stopped her only briefly but she showed them a part of the letter she had kept folded inside her clothes to verify her invitation from the queen.  
There was a brief discussion where to send her because it seemed certain, that her majesty would not be in the great hall that time of the day. From the mumbling that took place not two meters away from her Ranaria guessed, that queen Arwen was in the house of the healers where a member of the elfish race was currently treated. Assuming that it was not very likely that there were many elf’s in that town she immediately asked for directions and even got an escort to get there.

The white city was impressive, but the rider could not think past the fact that she would see her charge again. Worrying about everything that could have happened to him crept her mind and she was overwrought when they finally reached the complex. It was nice and painted in light colors as the rest of the buildings. She could smell herbs and flowers that – without any doubt – blossomed in the nearby garden, but none of the beauty and tranquility could reach her mind. With determined footsteps she passed healers and patients alike and when she asked for the way to the patient she was here to see, she was immediately pointed to the right direction.  
Her charge seemed to have been given a room in the highest tower of the healing house. From the small window in the corridor she could overlook the whole town. It was truly beautiful but the resolute voice of a healer that had entered the room before her, made her follow immediately.

_“… I really don’t care at that point. He is sick and getting sicker by the day. He has developed a fever; I can see that from here. I NEED to treat him … in fact I WILL treat him, no matter what he wishes.”_

_“You cannot …”_

Ranaria entering the room interrupted the soft words from the lovely Lady Arwen. It took the rider only a second to access the situation. The healer was determined to treat the patient, with salves and tinctures and some other things he carried on his tablet. An elf, so thin that you could nearly see the sunlight shine through him, sat motionless on the window-bench with his back towards the room. The queen standing half in front of him as if unsure what he needed more, protection from the determined healer or the treatment for his sickness?  
The drawing of a sword made even the strong-minded healer freeze in his motion. Ranaria knew that she was an imposing figure with her chain mail, her tabard, her helmet and her sword, and that was exactly what she counted on when she stepped up to the man and let her sword rest on the floor right beside her. Her voice was calm and somehow hollowed by her helmet as she declared:

_“You will not touch him. You will put down your medicine and leave this room. I will take care that he is treated.”_

_“And who do you think that you are?”_

Raising her sword from the ground bit by bit she answered, looking coldly into the eyes of the healer:

_“Someone who doesn’t break his word.”_

_“None of you will treat me. Leave me alone.”_

The voice from the window was silent and utterly empty and hearing it for the first time in nearly three weeks made Ranarias heart clench. He sounded so tired and so utterly lost, that all she wished for, was being able to go to him and close her arms around him, to protect him from the world. But maybe … maybe if she was lucky and her call for help had not destroyed all his faith in her. So her voice was composed as she stated:

_“I will do this now. I will tend your wounds and I can either do this with you standing willingly or bound spread-eagled on the door. What do you prefer?”_

His head flew around so fast that she was sure he would give himself a whiplash. When he saw her, his whole started to shake so hard, that she was afraid he might slide from the bench. A pleading look to the queen assured her, that she was allowed to approach him. She sheathed her sword again and removed her helmet as she closed the distance between them. Putting away her gloves she stepped up to him and slid her fingers up to his collar. For a moment he just looked up in wonder, as if he could not believe that she was really there, before leaning into her touch and closing his eyes. Tenderly her fingers began to pat his neck and her arm closed around his shoulders.  
After a minute his arms encircled her waist and latched onto the strong fabric that covered her armor. His quivering continued so Ranaria could not think of letting him go. It felt so good to be close to him again. She grasped that the healer had been right, his temperature was higher than normal and his body was covered in a sheen layer of sweat. Confused she realized that he still wore her clothes. They must have been cleaned but never the less unfitting for his tall frame. When she hugged him harder his shivering subsided slightly. An angry voice demanded her attention as the king entered the room.

_“Who dares to threaten our healers?”_

He was furious and she couldn't blame him. Her actions had been more than questionable, but the idea that someone would touch him had demanded an immediate response. She wanted to bow and explain herself but her charges arms tightened around her. Only after a brief struggle and a soft kiss on his head convinced him that she would not leave him. His hand still clanged desperately onto one of hers as she turned around and kneeled before the king. After bowing her head respectfully she looked up and explained:

_“I am truly sorry my Lord, but I have given a promise that no one but me would touch him. Your healer threatened to break that promise so I had to make him leave. Please forgive me, I would not have harmed your people you have my word.”_

_“Ranaria what an unexpected joy. To what circumstance do we owe the pleasure of your company?”_

He sounded far calmer now as he embraced his queen who had stepped up to him from her position next to Legolas.

_“With all due respect Mylord, you asked for me.”_

Confused the sovereigns looked upon each other so Ranaria rose to her feet and freed her hand from the clasp. This action was rewarded with a brief look of panic on the elf’s part but she just stroke his face gently before approaching the Lord and Lady, removing her bracers in the process. She drew back her shirt and offered her naked wrists to them while explaining:

_“You might have asked for a servant girl, but you wanted me.”_

Cautiously the king took one of her hands in his and turned them around. The fair voice of the queen asked:

_“Are these rope burns?”_

_“Yes Milady. Five years old but ever present.”_

The look of both monarchs flew from her hands back to Legolas who had near similar marks on his wrists, surprised when they found him approaching her, putting his slim hands on Ranarias shoulders. His voice was soft and nearly inaudible as he concentrated on her and said:

_“It is her … it was always her. Please … “_

As it had been in the golden hall, here too the queen was the one who made the decision.

_“We will prepare a bath for both of you and send up a meal.”_

The rider was so relieved that her whole body hunched down, not realizing how stiff her posture had been ever since she had entered the room. She lowered her head in appreciation and gratitude and silently said:

_“Thank you your majesty.”_

_“I expect you in the great hall later this evening.”_

Although the tone was friendly the words of the king suggested that he was not convinced of everything that had unfolded before his eyes.  
Never the less Ranaria was immensely grateful to get at least a few hours with her charge so she would not put up a fight. Queen Eowyn had sent her here, so she lived now under the jurisdiction of the king of Gondor and was bound to follow his every command. She hoped that she would be allowed to see her friend at least an hour a day, so whatever happened in the meantime was an acceptable price for that time.

When the king and queen left she gathered that Legolas still hadn’t moved from his position behind her. On the contrary he stood so still as if he wished that she would forget him. He had seemed to be relieved that she had come to Gondor, so his stiff posture confused her. With only a small turning of her head she asked:

_“What is it?”_

_“I didn't think that you would come.”_

His forehead lowered itself onto her hair, the only additional contact he allowed himself so far. So she just stood there and waited to understand.

_“Why wouldn't I come? I will always come to you when you call for me. I am your friend!”_

_“I didn't … I wasn't … During the last day I couldn't …”_

His inability to express himself seemed to frustrate him, because his lean fingers grabbed onto her shoulders hard and had she not worn her armor she might have gotten bruises from the pressure. But now she only noticed his distress and tried to untangle the confusing words. During the last day … what had happened? He had gotten up, had been obedient to a fault, had not said a word, had not … he had not touched her or searched for her vicinity.  
To someone else he might have given the impression that he hated her for her decision that he didn’t want to be near her again. Finally she understood and turned around. His hands fell from her shoulders and he stood in front of her like a child who expected to be berated. A part of her wondered how he could have gotten her so wrong, but on the other hand, there was only one emotion in his life now: fear. Everything else was secondary to that feeling.

So she carefully put her hands to his face, tenderly stroking his sharp cheekbones and his hollow cheeks. Seeing him up close made her aware how thin he had become over the last weeks. Had he eaten at all? She caressed him for some time, waiting for the tension to leave him. She brushed back his hair, rubbed gently over his arms, always returning to his neck or face in the end. Her proximity and touch seemed to ease him far better than anything else and his breathes became calmer and deeper. Only after his tension had subsided did she tell him.

_“You know when they found me … when Theron found me … I clanged onto him for the whole ride back to Edoras. And even after being returned to my family I wanted only him because he had been the one to safe me. He had been there with other man to slay those vile beasts.  
When he left me in the care of my family I was so angry and felt betrayed. I wouldn't talk, to no one. Not for a whole year. I tried to retreat, into my room, into myself but my mother wouldn’t let me. She dragged me out, placed me in my parents bed so that I would not have to sleep alone. It helped … a little, but although they cared so much for me I still felt betrayed by the person who had rescued me. He returned … almost daily … stayed away when I constantly ignored him, but came back after my mother had talked to him. He was the one I trusted, he was the one I needed around me._

_So don’t worry, you were right when you said that I DO understand. I thought your friends would be better for you, just like Theron had thought that my family would be better for me, and maybe we both were right. But needing something more doesn't mean that you can let go of someone else. You were angry and hurt and felt betrayed. I understand that. But I would have come never the les, because I had promised to take care of you!”_

_“You will not leave again?”_

The question was asked in a mere whisper, a wanton whisper but a whisper never the less. He wanted to make sure, to hear her promise. But a part of him was afraid to hope. Her own voice was reassuring and confident as she responded.

_“I promise will stay here, as long as the king of Gondor allows it. And I will try to be with you as much as I can. Do you believe me?_

His eyes looked into hers, pale blue drowning in pools of green and blue, but he saw what he needed to see, because after a moment he just nested into her and embraced her with the last bit of strength he possessed. Gratefull for a second chance Ranaria settled her arms around him and held him close.


	12. Care

_“I don’t know what to do.”_

The words were spoken so silently that at first Ranaria wasn’t sure that he had talked at all. But he wouldn’t release her, wouldn’t unwind himself from her embrace, on the contrary, he seemed to hold on to her as if she was the only thing that could keep him grounded.   
Desperately the rider hugged her charge, unsure how to proceed. What could she say that would give him hope, to ease his pain? He looked worn, thin, close to starvation and not for a second did the woman pinned these neglections of his body on too little care from his host’s side. He had decided not to be treated. He had chosen not to eat or at least only very little. It was as if he wanted his body to fade so that he wouldn’t be obliged to deal with what had happened. A part of him was still held captive by these foul orcs who had tormented him. For the first time Ranaria sympathised with her father, who so often simply hadn’t known what to say to ease her pain. The truth was, there was nothing right to be said or done. What had happened was horrible, a true nightmare that couldn’t be erased. The only thing she could do was teach him how to life with it, like she had learned to it herself.

Gently she opened her arms and made him let her go. He was so ashamed that he couldn’t even meet her eyes and his usually so tall figure was bent into itself. She brushed back his hair and gently took his chin in her hand as she spoke:

_“When the bath is ready you will undress and wash of the sweat. I will wash your hair and then I will tend to your wounds. When you are clad again, you will eat and sleep.”_

_“Why should I do that … there is no use in …”_

_“You will do that because I say so!”_

While his reply was reluctant and hopeless, hers were forceful and determined. He drew back a little but her hands held onto him so he couldn’t retreat. No further comment came from him so she asked:

_“Do you understand?”_

_“Yes.”_

There was no hope giving him a new perspective right now. He was too hurt, too injured and too sick. She would take care that his body healed and after that she would worry about his mind. She hoped that she would be allowed to stay with him for an extended amount of time, planned to talk to the king about it, but for now there was only one step after the other. Discussions would be useless because his point of few was so shifted and distorted that he simply couldn’t see past the recent events and into a future without shame or fear.   
Her hand travelled to her armor to feel her pendant. There was hope. When there has been hope for a simple human there would surely be hope for a noble elven-prince. As long as he couldn’t see it, she simply had to have enough faith for both of them. She had been where he was now, beaten and broken but she had fought her way back into the light and she would not let him be captured by darkness for the rest of his life.

A knock on the door dragged her out of her musings and when she invited the messenger to enter the room she saw a very scared maiden who informed her that the bathes were ready in the next room. It seemed that the story of her first appearance had already travelled through the house. Although Ranaria usually didn’t frighten people intentionally, she was not unhappy with the outcome of the situation. When they feared her the chances were slim to none that anyone would disturb her charge in her absence. With a simple nod she thanked the girl, before turning around and informing him that she would need to go to retrieve her saddle bags. That compelled the servant girl to speak up again:

_“Sir … I mean Madam … your bags had already been brought up. Everything you need is in the next room. Your horse has also been taken care of.”_

Relieved that Chestnut had been unsaddled and brushed down, Ranaria smiled in earnest. That seemed to relieve the maid a great deal, especially after her little faux-pas with the addressing.

_“Do you … need my help Miss?”_

_“No, thank you. I take soap and towels had been prepared.”_

_“Everything is ready like the queen had commanded.”_

With a nod the girl was relieved of her duty and the rider turned to her charge that had retreated to the window again. She ridded herself of her tabard and chain-mail, parted from all of her weapons but a single dagger, before taking his hand and entering the next room. For someone who had spent an entire week on the road the smells and fumes of the two baths were simply heavenly. As before her friend seemed to be reluctant to undress so Ranaria just locked the door before relieving herself of her boots and trousers. She had brought two sets of clothes with her, pants and a shirt and a dress for “special occasions”. The fact that Legolas still wore her things suggested that he found comfort in them, so until the things he wore were cleaned she was left with her dress.   
Placing her bags next to the door to easily access them later, she got rid of her shirt at last, giving her charge time to study her body. Her back and bum was covered in welts, her golden skin marred with old scars that showed exactly how much leniency the orcs had shown her when she had been in his position. Whip marks, torn skin and slices stained her hide down to her tights. Her front side was nearly untouched; the only mark was a cruel whiplash that surrounded her waist. They had used every trick in the book to break her and they had succeeded. But she had been saved. Just like him.

Only when she sank into the water and closed her eyes did she hear him undress. A splash shortly afterward told her, that he had entered his bath as well. She didn’t know when he had bathed the last time, but from his lack of cooperation chances were good that the pool in the valley had been his last one. She lounged a little in the warm water before starting to wash her hair. Her blond and brown waves soaked up the clean water and it took her quite some time to rid them of the dust and the dirt from her travels. It took her the better part of an hour before she felt clean again and retreated from her tub. Covering her hair and body with two big cloths she approached him.  
He looked as if he had drifted off to sleep and her touched surprised him so that he trembled a little. Gently she pushed his head under the water, only to start washing his hair as well. It was much thinner than hers, easier to handle and it felt like silk between her fingers. Gently she scrubbed his scalp before taking a bowl of clean water to rinse the lather out. Her voice was soft as she prompted him:

_“you need to wash everywhere, or the medicine will not work.”_

His hiking breath showed how much that idea scared him and with unexpected force he tried to rise from the tub. But Ranaria couldn’t let this one slide. He had an infection and the most likely part of his body to be infected was his backside. So she put her hand on his chest and held him in place. Panic rose in his eyes but there was nothing she could do to make this easier on him. She grabbed his left hand and laid it on his chest. Tenderly stroking over his neck she whispered:

“you can either do this yourself or i will do it. just close your eyes and get over with it.”

When she saw tears leaking from his eyes she just embraced him and dragged him close to her so that his face was buried in her neck. His breathing was still irregular and forced but she felt his hand sinking below the surface and reaching around himself. After long moments he exhaled with a shudder and wrapped his second arm around her, clinging onto her while he calmed down. Only when his breathes came evenly she unwound herself from him and helped him rise from the tub. A soft towel was wrapped around him and she started to dry his hair.   
In the other room his anxiety spiked again as he saw her taking up the tablet with the medicine. But now he was more composed, if only a little. Most of his wounds had already healed over the last three weeks so there was not much to be treated except the part of his body where he really didn’t want her. But now he just dug his fingers into the soft cushions of the bed while she remedied him, only to grab for his/her clothes as soon as she was finished. He shook slightly and Ranaria contemplated, that his distress was not caused by the temperature. When she covered his hands to keep him from putting on the sweaty clothes again she looked at her nearly desperate.

_“Please …”_

His voice came out as a mere whimper and Ranaria realized that he was at the end with his endurance. So she assure him hastly:

_“You can dress … I just want to fetch you clean clothes. All right?”_

His nod was more a shaking of his head than a conscious gesture as she dashed back into the jointed room to retrieve her saddle-bags. She produced a new pair of trousers and another shirt and he put them on in an instant, gratitude shining in his eyes. The rider realized that there was a closed pot on the table, accompanied by some rolls and a mug. Carrying the dishes to the bedside table she encouraged him to eat while she rubbed her hair and started to coombe through it.  
For some time they sat in silence, him eating and her looking out of the window over the beautiful town sitting with her back to him untangling her hair. After some time she could feel a whisper of a brush through her tresses. Carefully, as if asking permission, her friend had taken a strand and had started to coombe through it with his own device. Smiling she returned her face to the window and they worked her head from both sides till they reached the middle. Slim fingers caught some strands from the left and right side of her face and braided them down, before dragging them to her back and binding them in place. Used to have only one, thick braid Ranaria let her fingers glide over the small plaits and turned around to smile at him gratefully. With a small gesture she encouraged him to turn around.

_“Now it’s your turn.”_

Silently she dragged her coombe through his soft strands.

_“Your hair feels like silk and looks like sunlight on an early dawn. It’s really beautiful, far prettier than mine. My mother always said I have hair like a horse mane, shining and strong but nearly impossible to tame.”_

_“You are beautiful. … I mean your hair is … beautiful.”_

Charmed by his stuttered compliment Ranaria smiled and continued with her ministrations. Slowly, oh so slowly her friend started to relax and lay down on the bed, face first. She continued with her brushing fare longer than needed because every minute he seemed to ease up more and more until he had drifted off to sleep. Cautiously the young woman rose from the bed and covered his slim frame with a blanked.   
Judging by the deep circles under his eyes he must have been awaken for days on end. Hoping that his current calm was an indicator for the next hours Ranaria decided that now was the right time, to look for the king. The evening sky had already begun to colour in purple and dark blue so she guessed it was late already. No better time than now to explain herself and hoping that she would be allowed to stay with her charge as much as possible. But in the end, it was all up to the king and being honest, she hadn’t had the best start in this town.


	13. Dinner with the majesties

Covering her dress with her coat she left the room only to return an instant later. She dragged the sheath of her dagger from her belt and the other one from her boot only to place the later at her shank and the fist on the bed right next to Legolas. Instinctively his fingers wounded around the used leather, but he didn’t wake up. Feeling slightly relieved she left again and went to search for the throne room.

_“His majesties are about to take their dinner.”_

_“Then I will return …”_

_“You are expected to join them Miss.”_

If the servant thought anything about her wrinkled dress and her eagerness to leave he didn’t give any indication. He only guided her through a door where Lord Aragorn and Lady Arwen sat at a prepared table. Regarding her wardrobe Ranaria refrained from sinking onto one knee and instead curtsied.  
After an unspoken invitation she sat down at the rich table. The numerous dishes made her stomach grumble in hunger but she still waited for the questions that were inevitably about to come. It was the king who started:

_“What is Legolas doing at the moment? Were you able to treat him?”_

_“Yes Milord. I took care of his injuries. He bathed and ate something and is currently sleeping. I hope he will do so until I’m allowed to return.”_

The relieve was almost tangible as both the king and the queen relaxed back in their chairs so slightly.

_“He wouldn’t allow us to treat him, to even touch him. He barely spoke a word.”_

The queen was clearly grateful but confused why the young rider had been successful within a few hours where they had failed for weeks.  
It took Ranaria some thought but finally she decided that these two people, who were clearly worried about their friend, deserved to know the truth. Circling on of her scared wrists with her hand she took a deep breath and looked up as she answered:

_“I was able to treat him because I didn’t ask his permission. I simply did what had to be done.  
If you care for his cooperation he will never allowed it? He feels tainted, dirty and every touch would just contaminate you or anyone who touches him along with him. He’s far too noble to permit that.”_

Anger flared up in the kings eyes but the young rider just held up her hand so that she could continue without interruption. What needed to be said was horrible and degrading, but they needed to hear it in order to understand where her charge was standing right now.

_“He had allowed himself to be captured. Sure he had fought for his freedom at the beginning but he had failed miserably. So he had allowed them to torture him, to degrade him, to … hurt him. After a certain time he didn’t even think about his freedom any more.  
His whole mind was set on how to please these beasts that treated him worse than an animal. Every last conscious thought was how to meet their expectations, to excel them, so that they would go easy on him. So that they would hurt him just a little bit less, although he knew that every effort was in vain because they would do with him whatever they damned well pleased. He had allowed himself to be less … less than a human, less than a beast because even animals have a basic sense of self preservation. He had nothing, only pain and suffering without any hope to ever be more again.”_

Ranaria crushed her teeth together and lowered her head, tears running over her cheeks as she tried to supress these dark memories. Her hands were shaking under the table and she was unable to meet the majesties eyes.  
The king’s voice was trembling as he asked her silently:

_“How can you say that?”_

After a brief brush over her cheeks Ranaria swallowed, and put her hands on the table, presenting her wrists. First she looked at the Lady Arwen whose face was so sad and full of compassion before turning to the king who appeared pale. Her voice shook as well but she aimed for strength as she answered:

_“Because I have lived through that. I know how he feels. I know what he has been through so I can’t stay back and do nothing to help, whether if he likes it or not.  
Even if you hadn’t called for me. If the information’s you have send to my queen had reached me, I would have beseeched her to send me here. Because although I am only a human girl, I CAN help him. If you will allow it.”_

She pressed her lips together and closed her eyes for a second. Now was not the time for pride, so she looked upon the king pleading and begged, begged with all her heart:

_“Please Lord Aragorn. Please let me help him. I know I can.”_

Her pleading and explanations had pacified the king somehow because the angry look from her initial description of her charges situation was gone. There was even a small smile on his face when he asked her, as he reached for his queens hand:

_“Ranaria, why did you think did we call for you?”_

_“I … ahm … I don’t know.”_

Confused her eyes wandered from the king to the queen and back again. Until now she hadn’t thought about it. She was a warrior and they were a fighting nation. So she was young and only an archer. Gondor surely had more experienced and skilled warriors than her. So actually his request for her presence didn’t make any sense, except …  
When understanding dawned in her eyes both monarchs were unable to supress a small chuckle. Ranaria lowered her head to hide her flaming red cheeks of embarrassment. How could she have thought that they wanted her for anything else but her support? Her words were a mere whisper when she said:

_“Thank you.”_

They looked at her in sympathy as she looked up again and presented her with the food. The queen’s voice was warm and gentle as she provided her guest with dinner:

_“You look starved, help yourself.”_

They sat in companionable silence for a while, enjoying the delicious dishes before the queen spoke up again:

_“How did you do it? Why didn’t you just hide and … why did you become warrior, someone who is expected to stand in the first line of defence against such beasts.”_

Ranaria smiled and remembered her last conversation with her mother. She closed her fingers around the pendant around her neck and shrugged her shoulders.

_“Maybe because I was afraid to die. I am just a human after all. This life is the only one I have. On her last day my mother asked me a question and the answer made me realize that I had to change.”_

_“What was the question?”_

The kings voice was calm again but truly interested so she just smiled and answered:

_“ >How do you want your life be from this day forth?<_

_And the only answer I had was: >Not like this!<”_

She put her legs together to feel the scabbard on her lower leg before continuing:

_“I was scared. Every hour of every day I was so scared. To be touched again, to be taken back again, to be captured again, fear clouded my mind during every waking moment and most of the times even during the night. That was no way of living so I did the only thing I could think of to make myself feel safe again: I learned how to defend myself. I am fortunate that our queen understands such needs, otherwise I would still be a frightened little girl, hiding in her chamber.”_

_“But you did return. After you understood your dreams you returned to your place of your capture.”_

The rider nodded to the queen and concluded:

_“Yes, but that was my choice. No one made me do it. No one captured me. No one forced me. I returned there on my own free will, because the thought that someone else would have to go through that, was simply unbearable. And I was lucky to be there in time. I doubt that he would have made it longer than another week.”_

With these words the king put his hand on Ranarias shoulders and looked at her in earnest:

_“Whatever happens I am grateful that you were strong enough to return. No one could have expected that from you, considering your background. So when you need anything, just ask. The service you gave can never be repaid.”_

A brief look over to the queen told her, that this offer was not made out of cutesy. The king meant every word of it, so the rider decided to put it up to a test.

_“If you will allow it your majesty, I would like to stay close to him. I have my bedroll with me and would very much like to be with him as much as I can.”_

Smiling it was now the queen who interrupted her husband before he could decide on Ranarias accommodation:

_“The jointed room has already been prepared for you. Where you take refuge during the night will be up to you.”_

Beaming with joy the woman thanked the Lord and Lady profoundly and after all these clarifications of duties and responsibilities. Now they all felt relieved enough to truly enjoy their dinner.  
The moon sat high in the sky when Ranaria returned to the healing quarters. Silently so that she would not disturb her charge did she enter the room, only to find him sitting on the bed, knees dragged up to his chest, arms woven around them. Her dagger clutched so hard in his hand, that she could see the white knuckles even from a distance. But now was not the time for words, so she just relieved herself of her clothing and picked up a shirt that had been placed there for him. Prying the dagger from his fingers she sat it on the bedside table before putting her arms around him and pulling him down onto the soft cushions. Her fingers found his neck again and slowly she pated him until the tension left him and curled up to her side, he was finally able to sleep.


	14. Every day life in Gondor

It was the afternoon of the fifth day after Ranarias arrival in Minas Tirith, when she saw the king again. She was brushing down Chestnut after a wonderful hour where they had galloped over the fields and valleys that surrounded the white city. There was soft neighing and a lot of laughter, because the horse tried to nip at Ranarias shirt every time his rider brushed his chest or neck. They danced around each other in a joyful pattern and didn’t hear the approach until the soft, amusing words of the king intercepted them:

_“You two seem to have a good time.”_

_“Yes we were …”_

Ranaria answered with a laugh until she turned around saw who had approached them. Instantly she stilled her horse and bowed respectfully before continuing slightly embarrassed of her childish behaviour:

_“… we were enjoying the environments. Chestnut and I hadn’t had time to go for a ride since my arrival and today the weather seemed to inviting to miss it.  
I will return to the healing quarters immediately Mylord.”_

_“Do you feel restless here?”_

It was hard to find a suitable answer under the probing eyes of the king. Knowing that it would do no good to tell anything but the truth she admitted:

_“A little. His fever broke yesterday and he seemed to feel a lot better today. So I used the opportunity when he was taking a bath to go for a ride. His infection subsided, so he doesn’t need constant supervision any more. As soon as possible I need to get him out. His body misses the sunlight as much as mine, but he either doesn’t realize that or he doesn’t care. Sitting in the same room day in and day out can be quite boring, and although I read a book to him, he doesn’t show much interest in anything.”_

_“What book?”_

After finishing with her horse Ranaria had closed the stable and walked with the king through the vivid town.

_“It was strange. I didn’t recognize the figures in the story and it basically revolves around the facts that women should be well clad and beautiful and men strong and fierce. Whenever the woman gets into trouble – which seems to happen in the most insignificant situations – the man is meant to rescue her. It’s quite tiresome and a bit pointless. What good is a woman who can’t help herself with even the simplest of affairs? How should she be able to take care for her family?”_

The king’s laughter was kind of addictive so Ranaria couldn’t keep herself from joining him until he spoke again. The picture the book painted was kind of funny.

_“It seems you came across a novel. I take it you prefer to read something else?”_

That question embarrassed Ranaria somehow. She intertwined her fingers and looked down until she felt a strong but gentle hand on her shoulder, forcing her to look up. The voice of the Lord was soft as he said:

_“Ranaria you are helping one of the best friends I have. You take your time and your efforts to support him and therefore I wish you to be happy here and not strain yourself unnecessary. Tell me, what can we do to make your stay more comfortable?”_

_“Well … Lord I’m … I am a warrior, as confusing as that may seem to you. My body craves exercise and my mind knowledge. I enjoy reading, although I am quite slow with it – but I would prefer to read something that schools me. Something … anything but the fact that I should be well mannered and well clad.”_

_“Join me.”_

The king seemed to be quite amused by her estimation of the situation and lead her into a great building. After a few turns and corridors he opened two heavy doors to reveal a library. Stunned by the sheer number of books Ranaria just stood motionless for a moment and took in the picture. Rolled up maps, leather clad volumes … the smell of paper … of wisdom and knowledge overwhelmed her.

_“What are you interested in?”_

Aragorn had joined an elderly woman who sat at a table and painted into a book. With shining eyes the rider turned to him and asked breathless:

_“Do you have something on elves? On Mirkwood?”_

After a small nod from the king the woman stood up and produced a heavy volume opening it at the first page. For a moment Ranaria felt as if she had been slapped, but controlled herself rather quickly. She reached for the book cautiously and bowed in gratitude.

_“Thank you. I will enjoy that lecture. I am sure.”_

After accompanying her to the healing quarters the king asked:

_“Do you wish to join our soldiers for training?”_

It was truly a generous offer, but Ranaria felt a stretch between her likings and her chosen duty. It was true that she had left her friend alone for about two hours this afternoon, but doing this on a regular basis seemed too much of a strain. So she declined politely:

_“Thank you Lord Aragorn. But I don’t want to leave Leglas on a regular basis. I will try to find some time for training in the gardens of the healers. That will provide me with the possibility for exercise and him with some much needed air and sunlight.”_

_“Maybe I will join you to see how he fares.”_

_“That would be much appreciated.”_

With a final bow Ranaria left the king to his affaires and entered the house of the healers with swift steps. Having seen very little of them over the last few days she just nodded and smiled before returning her rooms. Hearing his strained voice made her accelerate her movement, only to invade a scene very similar to the one she had interrupted nearly a week before.

_“No! I don’t want you to look at me!”_

_“No one had looked at you. I NEED to access the state of your injuries. The king himself asked about you. What kind of healer am I, when I don’t even now the state of those under my care?”_

_“I said: Leave me alone!”_

It was truly impressive. Having eaten regularly and not running a fever her friend was quite forceful in his refusal. Having her dagger in his hand, something she always left behind to remind him that she would return, he held it in front of himself to keep the healer at a distance. With a smile she made herself known with soft words:

_“Greenleaf … what’s the matter?”_

Upon realizing her entering he directed his weapon at her and then back to his original target as he declared rather forcefully:

_“I do NOT want him to touch me! GET HIM OUT!”_

Ranaria was so proud at him that she thought she might burst, but grinning and hugging him for his willingness to stand up for himself surly wouldn’t help the current situation. So she placed the book at the table and ridded herself of her weapons before stepping up to the healer. Her voice was friendly as she asked:

_“Would a look over his wounds be sufficient?”_

Looking over to the still armed elf the healer nodded slowly. He seemed more than surprised about her cooperation. After her introduction she had built kind of a reputation, protecting her charge like an angry mother-bear, from any unwanted intrusion. So he nodded reluctantly, assuming that that would be the best he could achieve in the current situation.  
Approaching her friend she just held out her hand to receive her dagger from him. In his current state of mind she was not sure that he wouldn’t actually hurt someone with it. After putting the weapon away she rubbed over his tense arm, and started to brush over his neck tenderly. The threatening presence of the healer kept him from relaxing completely, but a part of his tension left him under her gentle caresses. After a few moments she spoke softly:

_“it is a viable request and you know it.”_

His voice was a mere whisper, half a plea and half insistent as he said:

_“I cannot bear his touch. Please Nia, don’t make me.”_

Stroking him soothingly she touched his forehead with hers before whispering back:

_“i would never do that. not when you are not ready, you know me good enough by now.  
but aragorn is worried, so is everybody else. wouldn’t you want to put your friends at ease by hearing from an expert that you are getting better?”_

He didn’t like her way of arguing but he knew she was right. So he just sighed deeply before turning his head back to the healer and ridding himself of his shirt. Ranaria just picked up her dagger again and stepped back. She had intended to put it back onto her shin, but decided against it. She held it in her hand instead as she stepped up to the healer. Her voice was pleasant as she made an inviting gesture towards her charge as she threatened:

_“You touch him, I cut of your hand.”_

Before flashing a bedazzling smile and stepping back. Her friend was nervous; she could see that in the tension of his shoulders and the folding of his arms in front of his chest as if he was hugging himself. The words of the healer were measured and unsure as he asked him to put his hair to the front so that he could inspect the whole of his back.  
Ranaria stepped up to him as he inspected a particular angry welt at the side of his body when he asked:

_“Does it hurt to touch this one?”_

Irritated the elf brushed his long fingers around his waist to try and reach the wound. It hadn’t gotten better over the last days, no matter how much salve they had put on it. The rider first touched his arm in front of him, to let him know that it was her, before directing his fingers to the skin in question. She heard an angry hiss from him as he reached the bump. That seemed to be more than enough information for the healer because he retreated and picked up his things.  
In a worried tone he declared that something had infested the wound, and although the body of the patient seemed to have encapsulated it somehow, there were no signs of blood poising after all, it wouldn’t heal as long as the intruder lay under the skin. The only way he proclaimed was to cut open the wound and clean it from the inside.

The elves hands fell from his body as he grasped what the healer was saying. Cutting him open, hurting him again, cleaning a wound was not only a risky but even more so a painful business. Everyone in the room knew that it had to be done in order for him to getting better. But none of them liked that idea. The healer because his hands have been threatened, Ranaria because she detested causing him any pain and the elf simply because the mere thought of it sent him back into the deeps of the wood where he had been captured and tortured. But there was no other choice so he just hung his head in defeat as Ranaria and the healer discussed where and when the procedure should take place.  
On one hand he preferred it to be over sooner rather than later, but on the other hand, he detested being cut again. Too much emotional baggage with that. So he just ignored the humans in the room and put on his shirt again starring out of the window. When Ranaria offered him a cup of a hot herbal mixture he just drowned it and gave it back. No amount of soothing tea would make him feel any better. Than he just slumped down and lost consciousness.

_“I really don’t like that idea, not at all!”_

_“You don’t need to like it. You just need to help me with him. Sooner or later the wound will become angry and might make him sick again. Praise the Valar that his other wounds had healed without any infection. It was nothing more than dump luck, because he wouldn’t let us treat him!”_

She understood the anger of the man, especially when his profession was that of a healer. She hated to see her friend suffer. How unbearable was it, when easing people’s pain was your calling? So she just picked her friend up and placed him on the table. Opening every window and using mirrors so that as much light as possible was concentrated on the skin in question, she just watched the healer when he cleaned the skin, cut open the wound and cleaned it carefully. Only a small thorn had sat there, in the middle of white fluids that smelled rather unpleasant. It was unbelievable for the rider that such a tiny thing could cause so much pain and trouble. After the wound was cleaned with a clear liquid that made her friend squirm a little, even in his unconscious state, the healer bandaged it expertly.  
Grateful Ranaria turned him around and together they placed him on the soft bed, where he could sleep out the drug induced slumber. Helping the healer to clean up and pack his things Ranaria bid him farewell with a deep and grateful bow before returning to the bed and sitting at her friend’s feet.

She had taken the book with her and opened it with care. With reverent fingers, she brushed over the painting that decorated the first page. It was a vast landscape and a rich forest. Flowers, steeds, people … presumably elves … were painted in different states of occupation. Some rode horses, some took care of the growing life that surrounded them, some danced with each other or played with animals. It was all tremendously beautiful, but what had caught her eye in the afternoon was the outlining of the trees from the upper half of the picture; the trees and the moon shining through their branches in the middle of the painting.  
Taking of her necklace she placed the pendant on top of the drawings. It was slightly bigger than the pictures, but the trees, the moon and the grass, it was a perfect copy.

_“You drugged me.”_

_“Yes I did.”_

A little groggy her friend pushed himself upright, only to touch is newly bandaged wound cautiously. When he had satisfactorily inspected his side, he crouched up to her and rested his head on her shoulder. Watching the picture and the jewellery for some time, he brushed over the tiny sparkling stone before declaring:

_“That’s Mirkwood.”_

_“Yes … I assumed that.”_

_“Where did you get that pendant?”_

_“I was told that my grandfather gave it to my grandmother the day …”_

Showing the surpassing ability of meaningful silence, the elf just waited for his human friend to continue.

_“He gave it to her the day my mother was conceived.”_

_“Who was he?”_

_“I don’t know. No one knew. Mother only said that grandmother had told her, that she had loved him dearly, and that he had loved her in return. For her that was enough.”_

_…_

_“Thank you.”_

_“For what?”_

_“For … the tea.”_

Ranaria just nodded and laid her head on his. Over the last few days their companionable silence had returned. She had found out that his name in the tongue of her people was most comfortable for him. He had started used a short form of her name that was usually reserved for her family alone, because she kind of felt like a kitten when someone called her “Nia”. Never the less they had established a unique way of addressing each other that was specifically reserved for the two of them.  
It was an intimate connection that surpassed mere physical contact, although they had not slept apart for even a single night, ever since Ranaria had returned to him. It was more, it was close in a way they were not close to anybody else.

_“Tell me something.”_

Here voice was a mere whisper, while she still looked at the picture that looked so similar to her pendant.

_“Tell me something of your home … of your people.”_

He had refused to do that only a month ago. But now his soft voice started to paint pictures for her. Rich trees, fruitful grounds, a life in harmony with nature. His people, nobler and prouder than any other in middle earth, and for the first time since she met him she could hear the longing in his voice.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I'm well aware of that in the name "Ranaria" the short form "Nia" is nowhere to be found. But Ranaria was one of my first MMO characters and due to the inability of my two year old son to say it correctly, he just shortened it to "Nia". He even named his stuffed grey toy-cat with rainbow-stripes after her. 
> 
> OK, why did I paint THAT picture? Grey cat with rainbow-stripes? You will never be able to take my little scar-faced rider girl serious after that. But it is true never the less ;).
> 
> Enjoy, there is more to come.


	15. Gifts and Fighting - or the other way around

_“… but if you don’t like it, why do you use one?”_

_“Because … I’m neither … contradicting … my father … nor … my captain … on this one.”_

Finishing another round Ranaria allowed herself so simply hang down from the tree head first. Two days had passed since her ride and she had finally been able to persuade … well force her friend, to leave their rooms and enjoy the beautiful garden of the healers. In the delightful morning-sun she had decided that it was time for another training session and had made good use of the surroundings. A tree assisted as a tool for an exercise of her abdominal muscles. Now she repeatingly dragged herself up with her hands crossed in front of her chest.  
Her whole body was covered in a sheen layer of sweat and it was an advantage that she only wore thin wool-leggings and a broad cloth over her upper chest to make her decent. Never the less she looked radiant as she conversed with her friend who had placed himself at a stone-bench not far from her, enjoying the sunlight.

_“What are you talking about?”_

_“Daggers” – “Swords”_

The answers to the king’s question came simultaneous, upon his entering the garden. He had been more than happy to hear, that his friend had finally left his quarters. He had come with a request from his queen, as well as fulfilling his promise to the young rider to join her in a training-session. Therefore he was clad in light armour with his sword at his side.  
Having dragged herself up onto the branch she had hung from, Ranaria watched the king carefully as he approached her charge. He enveloped the elf in a compassionate hug and she doubted that he noticed, that Greenleaf had fixed his eyes on her, all through the contact as if he needed to ground himself through it.  
Pretending not to recognize the stiffness of the gesture the king let go and sat next to Legolas on the bench, close, but not close enough for physical contact. Only when Greenleaf relaxed, Ranaria let herself slide down again, holding on to the tree only with her knees, starting another set of reverse push-ups.

_“Actually … we were … discussing … bows … for they are … the weapons … of my choice.”_

_“Oh please human. You can’t actually expect me to believe, that your preferred weapon, is an instrument as fragile as a bow.”_

_“Just because … you have never … seen me … in broad daylight … doesn’t mean that I can’t use one. I might be not as good as you but I am good enough to have earned my place in the ranks of our soldiers.”_

Having dragged herself up again for a brief pause, she glared at the elf who said:

_“Archery is an art, not a tool for brawls.”_

_“It is an art that you will not practise again if you don’t keep up your exercise.”_

Was the condescending answer before she let go of the branch again to start the next round of her routine. Without another look at her friend she scowled:

_“That was not a joke. Get going!”_

Amused by their bickering Aragorn had sat by idly and watched them. Now he realized that his friend held two slim sticks in his hands which he started to rotate between his fingers again after the demand from the woman. The king also noticed that this simple exercise was not as easy for him as it should be. The elf was one of the best archers he knew, and the fact that his dexterity was somehow diminished, was indeed something to worry about.  
But although he complied with the order, his voice was not less amused as he continued:

_“I will show you how it’s done, once I get another bow.”_

_“If you … ask nicely … I’m willing … to lend … you mine. But only if you do this about 5.427 more times.”_

_“You just want do drag it out because you are afraid that I am better then you.”_

_“Of course you are better than me. How can … you not … when you … had ten … times more … practice … than me …”_

_“Are you calling me old?”_

_“Sure … I have a thing for older men. I’m even living with one.”_

Now the conversation went a little to fare. Not being able to follow any more the king asked:

_“I thought you lived with your father.”_

_“Entirely … not … the point!”_

Laughing Ranaria grabbed the branch and freed her legs from it. Rolling back between her arms she let go at the precise moment, when her arms wouldn’t support the movement any more, only to land with a small huff in the flower-bed. Crossing the small distance to the men she let herself sink down on the grass at their feet, and gratefully accepted the water-skin that her friend offered.  
Gesturing with her head towards the simple exercise the elf still performed she asked:

_“How often did you do it by know?”_

_“1.043 times.”_

Eying him suspicious she inquired:

_“Greenleaf? … Are you lying to me?”_

_“Of course I am.”_

Laughing out loud she returned the water and rubbed her wristbands over her forehead, to keep the sweat from running into her eyes, before she addressed the king.

_“From your attire I take it that you are willing to train with me?”_

_“As I have promised Milady.”_

With a slight bow the king answered the question and couldn’t help himself but smile when he realized how Ranarias face lit up at the prospect. Scrambling to her feet she declared:

_“I will just get my armour and sword. I will be back momentarily.”_

Dashing off into the house Aragorn and Legolas finally got the chance to talk in private. Instinctively they fell back into the language they have both been raised with.

_“How do you feel my friend? I have been worried about you.”_

It took the elf some time to answer and after a brief look towards the door Ranaria had disappeared through, he finally went for:

_“I feel blessed, to have found such a friend. I am sure I would not be here without her.”_

If he meant here as “in the garden” or in “alive at all” wasn’t specified, but the answer was evasive never the less, and didn’t tell the king anything about the state of his friends mind. In contradiction to his assumptions the human had very well noticed how negative the elf had reacted to his embrace, knowing each other for so long it hurt him to be rejected like that. But having heard of his last encounter with one of the healers Aragorn tried not to take it too personally. Although it was kind of hard, especially when he saw how much his friend gravitated towards the female rider. He not only tolerated contact with her, he went for it. Their fingers had touched when he had offered her the drink. She had slightly jointed their legs while sitting before him. He had captured a strand of hair that had escaped the artful braid she wore for training and had put it behind her ear. These movements remained unnoticed between the two of them; they simply were there for each other’s comfort.  
Aragorn wanted to help his friend, very much so. But for now it seemed that the best choice was, to hold himself back and let the Rohirim do her work. It was no use to pressure him further, so he accepted the vague answer only to bring another one up:

_“Apart from the promised trainings-session I come with a request from Arwen. She begged me to ask you if you would join us for dinner, now that you are not sick anymore.”_

_“Are there elfish guests you wish me to meet?”_

_“No Legolas, there are no guests. We simply wish for your company if you feel up to it.”_

When his friends eyes flew towards the building Aragorn didn’t hesitate to assure.

_“Of course Ranaria is invited as well. We enjoyed her company very much on her first night here.”_

Seeing the uncertainty the king wished that he knew the right words to convince Legolas to leave the haven he had created for himself here. But suddenly the elf’s eyes lighted up in joy as he answered:

_“I will gladly accompany you, but I have a request beforehand.”_

_“Sure, whatever you wish.”_

After a brief explanation the king’s face mirrored that joy as he promised:

_“That will be no problem at all, my friend. I am sure Arwen will find something suitable.”_

Grinning the king rose from the bench to talk to a boy that he immediately sent to his wife.

 

Ranaria had wash herself slowly, and put on a light shirt under her mail. The king had looked worried and she was sure, that he would appreciate some time alone with his friend. Carefully pinning back her hair again, putting her armor in place, closing her belt and taking her sword she took her time to descent into the garden again.  
The early sunlight lit up her armour so that it seemed she was clad in a brilliant white before stepping into the shadows where the two men still sat.

Instantly the king rose and they faced each other in the middle of the garden. After a few moments of circling around, taxing balance and movement before the attacks began. Quickly it became clear, that Ranaria was indeed a decent swordsman … or woman in that case. But she was far from being good. Holding onto her weapon for dear life she used every trick she knew to deal with the fast attacks of the former ranger, but she was clearly in over her head. So after a few moments Aragorn stopped and asked:

_“What do you usually carry in your other hand?”_

_“My sword. It’s rather heavy and I’m only a woman. I know that’s a poor excuse but true nevertheless.”_

_“The way you wield it, not even a trained soldier could do for very long. You always parry and stop. You don’t use the movement to your advantage. Keep your weapon in motion, the fight’s movements to your benefit. You carry daggers, do you wield them simultaneously or do you carry two for mere convenience?”_

Studying her weapons Ranaria shrugged:

_“Daggers are light. It’s easy to wield them together. Gives me more chance to parry and attack at the same time.”_

_“Alright, let’s try a sword and a dagger together.”_

Confused by the request, Ranaria grabbed the dagger from her hip with her left hand. At home there were but two options: Hold onto your sword with both hands for better grip or use a shield. The clumpy and cumbersome things had never been to Ranarias liking. Additionally it decreased her flexibility with the bow. Due to her position as one of the archers, she usually relied on her dexterity to avoid being hit rather than on a heavy armor.  
Parrying with a dagger was easier for her because she was used to it. Attacking with the sword simultaneously not so much, but after some time she got the general idea behind it and nodded. So the king went to the next phase.

_“How do you react when you are captured?”_

The question clearly made her uncomfortable. The whole point of her training had been to ensure that she wouldn’t allow herself to be captured again.

_“Praying?”_

_“Let me show you something.”_

After an initial attack the king caught her sword arm, used her own momentum against her and had her pinned to his chest within a mere moment. Being unnerved by her current position she tried to wiggle free, but Aragorn was far too strong for her. He relaxed his grip a bit and asked:

_“Where are your arms and your weapons?”_

Looking down at herself she realized that both were pinned closely to her body. Unable to break them free she assumed:

_“Trapped?”_

_“Now imagine that the blade of your dagger would look into another direction. Backwards for example.”_

Realizing that this would give her an excellent opportunity to sink her blade into his tight, she smiled and commented:

_“That’s a very dirty move.”_

_“Fighting is not about clean technique. It’s about surviving. No one cares what you do, as long as you make it out alive.”_

_“Again”_

She was prepared for the move this time and evaded it. It took her opponent now significantly more time to catch her and press her into his body hard.  
But with the strength of the grip something snapped inside of Ranaria. She had turned her blade, had moved it into the perfect position to stab the leg but had refrained from doing so. Now the hot breath of the man behind her, his strong arms constricting her body, her inability to move were too much for her. To familiar, to threatening. She felt panic rise and gripped her dagger tighter while commanding in an icy voice:

_“Let go of me or I will hurt you.”_

As soon as she was free she spun around, fixing her eyes on her opponent. The king seemed unsure of what had happened as she studied him with a hostile glare and demanded with a vicious hiss:

_“Again!”_

The panic threatened to overwhelm her. She felt her body shake and her heart flutter but she only gripped her weapons more tightly and threw herself into the fight headfirst. What she lacked in skill she now made up with pure determination and the king – not wanting to hurt her – felt himself driven back through the perimeter.  
Only when he felt the outer wall in his back did he attack in earnest to make her retreat. When they had returned to their place of origin, Ranaria made a desperate move that caught him off guard. She threw her dagger in his direction and used his sidestep to kick his legs out from under him. Hitting the grass Aragorn immediately rolled around and held up his sword to parry a potential blow, only to realize that the rider looked at him with big, scared eyes. She was still shaking but the panic had left her. Turning her head from side to side in useless denial she lowered herself into a crouch, only to cover her eyes with the heels of her hands. Her voice was nothing more than a broken whisper.

_“I’m sorry. I’m so sorry Mylord … so sorry.”_

Covering her head with her arms her forced breaths showed, that she desperately fought for control. Only gradually did her emotions subside and after a few moments the king allowed himself to kneel next to her, prying her arms away from her head. He brushed over her tearstained eyes with gentle fingers as he commented:

_“I realize now why they gave you a place in their guard. You are quite vicious when cornered.  
Maybe we should try something tomorrow that does not require full-contact. I have heard you are quite acceptable with a bow.”_

Unable to keep herself from laughing at the teasing tone of Aragorns voice, Ranaria just nodded gratefully and straightened herself up. She picked up her discarded weapon, only to bid the men farewell with a deep bow and retreated into the house immediately after that.

 

Unsure of his reaction Aragorn took his place next to Legolas again, who seemed to be completely stunned by the incident. His voice was confused as he asked:

_“If she feels so much fear, how does she deal with it?”_

Touching his shoulder tenderly the king answered:

_“That my friend is a question only she can answer. Best you ask her yourself.”_

After that he just rose and left the garden, only to leave a very confused elf behind in the blazing sunlight.

 

She had asked for a bath and while water was heated by helpful hands Ranaria stood at the window and stared out. The edges of her pendant dug deep into her skin as she held onto it for dear life. Her gaze was turned inward. How could she have attacked the king? She had thrown him on the floor! How could she have lost her composure so completely?  
It was a stupid question; she already knew the answer to. She didn’t like being restrained. Being held down and entrapped always threatened to bring up bad memories, but usually she was able to keep them at bay. Today she had truly lost it. She shuddered at the mere prospect of truly hurting the Lord of this land. Praise the gods he was an experienced fighter who had been willing to go easy on her. Ranaria didn’t doubt for even one second that he could have killed her. But he had chosen only to defend himself, had even comforted her afterwards. He was a remarkable man and Gondor was truly blessed to have him as their king.

Her grip on the jewel tightened even more, when she hears faint whispers of someone approaching behind her. Thankfully the person didn’t touch her. It took her a few moments to realize that it was not a maiden that wanted to be acknowledged, but her friend. She had tried to be strong for him over these last few weeks. But now he had seen her at her worst. Not very helpful in the current situation where he looked to her for guidance. Knowing that it was useless to stall the inevitable she asked:

_“Shocked?”_

_“Amazed.”_

_“What?”_

Turning around flabbergasted Ranaria realized that her friend did not look at her in confusion or doubt but in shear wonder.

_“How can you do that?”_

_“How do I do what? Loose control? That’s not hard if you are scared out of your freaking mind.”_

_“No. … How did you rein it in? You were more scared than I have ever seen you. But you fought never the less. You didn’t freeze or cower, you attacked and rather well. How are you able to do that when your mind goes …”_

He made an impatient gesture while searching for words, so Ranaria tried helpful:

_“… when my mind tumbles back into the darkness?”_

He swallowed heavily but nodded never the less.  
Ranaria looked at her hand and let go of her necklace before looking up again. Here voice was calmer now, laced with far less self-hatred than before as she answered:

_“I hold onto something. It’s OK to have a breakdown, expected in situation like ours. But only when you are safe. No matter what happens, as long as you are in danger you have to hold on to something, anything that helps you to get through it and make it out alive. Only then, AFTER your life is no longer threatened, THEN you can break down and lean on to whoever is there to catch you.”_

_“You held on to your weapons.”_

_“Yes, because they make me strong, enable me to defend myself. And in that very moment, that’s the only thing that is important to me.”_

_“So you say that all I need to go out there again, is something to hold on to. Something that makes me strong again and enables me to leave, face whatever is there and return afterwards.”_

_“Yes, basically that’s what this is about.”_

_“But how should I find it?”_

Smiling Ranaria stepped up to him and encircled his waist with her arms and leaned into him. Instantly his arms were around her as well, as if he had waited for it the whole time, only holding back because of her panic attack in the garden. She knew that she had to be dirty and sweaty but he didn’t seem to be offended by it, he just held onto her as if he did never want to let her go. Maybe that was enough for now so she whispered:

_“We will figure it out Greenleaf. We will figure out what gives you strength. Until we find it, you just hold onto me and we will go through this together.”_

She could feel him nod and heard a faint whisper.

_“Le melin.”_

When she tried to look up to him to find out what he had said, he just held onto her stronger. Being wrapped up in his arms was no threat to her, nothing that would send her into another panic attack. With her elf it was just warm and safe, everything she could wish for.

 

After nearly an hour the bath was finally ready and Ranaria took her time enjoying the steaming and perfumed water. Washing herself and her hair carefully she returned to their room only because she needed help with her hair. His skilled fingers found unique and exquisite ways to braid her strands. Usually Ranaria preferred to keep her hair open and falling into her face, to keep other people from starring at her scars. But here it was easier to keep it back, just like when she was with her family and friends. Additionally her friend seemed to be calmed by tracing her broken skin with his fingertips without hindrance. It was as if it was a constant reminder of what one could endure and still have a happy life.  
The truth was, most of the time Ranaria WAS truly happy with her life. She had a caring father, loving friends, duties she found fulfilling and the prospect of really making a difference. Sometimes she wished for a companion, someone to share her life with, but on the other hand that would tie her to a house and keep her from protecting her people. So yes … most of the time Ranaria got exactly what she wanted and that reflected on her behaviour. She laughed a lot, enjoyed the simple things in life like good food or a beautiful sunset, as well as training hours in the garden. Or simply sitting with a friend and reading a book together.

But when she finally entered their room – clad only in a big towel – she was completely stunned by the viewed of a beautiful dress. The fact that her friend stood next to it and grinned like crazy, made clear that he had intended to surprise her. And what a surprise that was. The fabric was of the deepest green, very similar to her tabard. The bordures and a belt were patterned with beautiful brown and golden stiches. Altogether one could say, it was a dress fitting for a queen.  
Completely overwhelmed by the offering Ranaria felt tears sliding down her eyes. No one had ever presented her with such a beautiful robe. At home most of the time she even refrained from wearing one, because she felt, that her trousers and shirt was much easier to handle. Than on the other hand, her only dress was old and a little torn at the seams. Feeling his hands on her shoulders she heard him ask in a soft voice:

_“Do you like it?”_

Turning around and throwing herself to him whole heartily, she answered in an overly emotional voice:

_“By the Valar, is that for me? What is the occasion?”_

That question seemed to take him by surprise, because he stuttered a little and she could feel his fingers clutch her towel nervously.

_“Because … it’s just because I wanted to say “Thank you” for everything.  
You came here and left everything behind and you are staying and … I just … I wanted to show you how grateful I am.”_

_“Of course …”_

What else could it be? He was just grateful. She had never been presented with pretty things by anyone but family. No men had shown interest in her when she had grown up, and why should they? She was scarred and broken. So it was only reasonable that this present was simply motivated by gratitude.  
Feeling her tension her friend tried to pull back and asked:

_“What is it? Don’t you like it?”_

Mentally slapping herself for her silly thoughts – who cared why he gave it to her anyway, it was the most stunning dress she had ever possessed – she just hugged him harder and said honestly:

_“No, I really love it. It is beautiful. Thank you very much.”_


	16. Old Friends

They had moved, from the house of the healers into the palace. Just like before they had jointed rooms and made use of only one of them. If anybody found that disturbing or strange no one mentioned it. Truly Ranaria was glad to have left the quarters of the healers. In the palace she had to worry a lot less that someone would sneak up on her friend to judge his well-being. His wound had healed up nicely and although she could tell that it troubled him sometimes, generally he was on his way to a perfect mending.  
When enough time had passed, she decided that it was time for the both of them to leave the city. It had taken a lot of coaxing and a little extortion. Her friend treasured their nights together too much to risk them. The truth was, she highly doubted that she would have been able to go through with her thread to sleep in her own room. But before he had been able to call her bluff he had accepted reluctantly. Dressed up in nothing but their linen and leather clothes they made their way to the stables.

Chestnut was more than happy to see his rider again, so in his excitement it was hard to get him out of the enclosed space. Together the three of them wandered through the city towards the gate. The landscape around the city was nice and safe so they wouldn’t go far away on their first trip. But the Rohirim was hoping that she would be able to persuade her friend to take longer rides with her, every time they went out. She planned to expand his horizon gradually, just like Theron and Aeron had done with her. On their way out her friend became uneasy with the animated town and all of it’s people. He kept rather close to the horse, with her acting as a shield against accidental bumping and brushing against him.  
Her horse of course enjoyed it tremendously to be the recipient of such an intense focus. He constantly tried to nip at the elves shirt and Ranaria could see that the interest in his person from both sides now distressed him even more. So she gently speeded up their journey and as soon as they had left the city Greenleaf stepped away from the beast who followed him a few steps. It was Ranarias hand on his neck that finally stilled him.

_“In know … I know Chestnut. But for now stop with the playing. We will make good use of the energy you have been able to build up over the last few days.”_

Here voice seemed to sooth her friend so he calmed and allowed his rider to scratch him between the ears and nuzzle his nose. When the woman prompted her friend to climb on, her furry friend sidestepped a little to make it harder on his unusual rider. But the grace of the elf overcame that obstacle without thought and slid onto the beasts back without trouble. Pulling herself up behind him Ranaria just put her hands around his wrist and edged her horse on with her legs. She had purposely forgotten to bristle and saddle him, because she wanted their first ride  to be about connection, not about tools or toys.  
When she edged Chestnut on, the picked up more and more speed, enjoying the possibility to stretch his legs and move his muscles. They were going, trotting, galloping before they were racing over the landscape. Both needed to lean closely over the horses back. Ranaria knew that she could manage with only her feet to stir. But she had never tried that with another rider. It was a new experience and thrilling in itself, even more so, because her elfish friend seemed to unify himself with the beast as well as with her. They rode as if they were one, each of them feeling all the muscles and movements they were connected to and the rider was exhilarated to find out, that she could still stir her horse perfectly, even with an “obstacle” between him and her. For more than an hour they enjoyed their ride before she slowed them down at a pool close to the mountains. She could nearly see her own land, so close were they to the border that stretched between Rohan and Gondor. But for now she wouldn’t give her home any thought, nor how much she missed it.

Dipping into the pool from a rock more than two meters above the surface, they enjoyed the warm sun and the outdoor activity. She revelled in the picture of the lean body that looked so much better than he had a few weeks ago. He was better fed and definitely more healed. The scars he had kept from his … experience were small and could easily be overlooked. She asked herself if elves were blessed with healing capacities for their scars as well. She wished nothing more for him than to be able to erase the memories from his mind as well as his body. He lived such a long time, surely someday the unpleasant events would fade from his mind. When they diminished from his body he would be able to truly erase them. There was nothing more desirable in her mind.  
When they met in the middle of the pool, laughing and showering each other with water her friend suddenly stilled. She had climbed onto a boulder, to jumping back in, planning to soak him with a weave. Feeling him freeze she looked over her shoulder, just to find him starring at her with an inexplicable look in his eyes. She knew what picture she presented, felt the droplets of water flow over her skin, accenting every imperfection and every scar she possessed. Self-conscious she dragged herself completely up, only to retreat to her horse. Vibrating with embarrassment she grabbed her shirt to cover herself again, as she felt him approaching her. His voice was soft like velvet as he stepped up to her.

_“Nia …”_

She put her forehead onto the back of her horse. She just wished that she could dress up in peace. While he prayed that she would turn around, so that he could look at her beautiful, lean body from the other side. The sun had lit her from the side when she had climbed up on that boulder. Her body had looked as if covered in sparkling diamonds that flew over her skin and for the first time since his abduction, he felt like he could share himself with someone again. But then she had looked at him and retreated. He wished so much that she would return his feelings, but she hadn’t even wanted him to admire her unclad form. He softly brushed her hair back over her shoulder, wishing that he was bold enough to act on his feeling, or only to be brave enough to touch her. He desperately wished that he could say something, anything. But just like when he had presented her with the dress all coherent speech had left him.  
A part of him piped up and told him to be less ridiculous. She was a female rider, experienced and strong. He was nothing but her charge, she had made that clear in abundant by her protection and her threats so anyone who had come close to him. She slept with him and thought nothing of it and before today he had neither. But now he wished so much for that she could see him differently. That she could value him for his strengths and not making up for his weaknesses. She had lightened up when confronted with Aragorn in the gardens of the healers during their training. At least he needn’t to worry about his friend, he had found the woman he loved and had been blessed with her living at his side. He wanted to say so much, explain himself, but suddenly he felt that something was off. He wasn’t even sure what convinced him, the vibrations of the earth, a shift in the wind, a certain smell, but he knew that they wouldn’t be alone much longer.

Grabbing her clothes in haste he stuffed them into her arms only to rush for his own, pulling them over his wet form. If Ranaria was aware of the thread to them or if she just dressed reflexively in regard of his obvious distress couldn’t be told, but within a few moments, they were on horseback again. He pointed out some small forms on the horizon; while she was edging her ride on to pick up speed. Due to the fact that they were not completely safe anymore, the rider had settled for the more controlling position right after the horse’s neck. There she could use his mane to stir him as well as her feet. Approaching the figure she desperately wished, that she had more than her daggers in her boots. When facing an unknown opponent, it was always better to be safe than sorry. But regrettably she needed to make due with what she had.

It turned out that the figures approaching the white city were dwarfs. Sturdy and determined creatures, that had come all the way down from the Misty Mountains. He was more than surprised so find one of his best friends among them. But Gimli seemed to be injured, tired and exhausted when he slipped down from his horse right next to him. Never the less he soon found himself encompassed by a bone-crushing hug only to wiggle free laughing. Within mere moments he heard that they had been attacked by orcs, that they feared an enormous thread for their homes and had come to ask for the king’s help. Although Legolas had always heard of the beauty of Erebor, his friends original home, it made sense that the dwarf would accompany them. Being friends with a king went a long way in any culture.  
For a brief moment he looked up to Ranaria who was circling the group on horseback. She had been well aware of the stiffness of his posture as his friend had enveloped him, but hadn’t said anything. For her all these things others treasured so much: politics, friendships with “important” people, didn’t matter. To her he was not a prince but just a … well a charge obviously. The dwarfs were people in need so she did her best to support them, only she had little means to do so, other than guarding them. Chestnut seemed a bit reluctant to approach any of them, and the creatures from the earth eyed the great beast with distrust. Only Gimli didn’t mind as he asked:

_“And who might be the lovely Lady on the horse?”_

_“She is my …”_

Lost for words he was grateful when Ranaria picked up the conversation seamlessly:

_“I am merely a friend. We were enjoying our ride as we saw you advance. I would offer you a ride but have learned, that few dwarfs enjoy being on horseback.”_

The reluctant answer, the hasty explanation, nothing evaded the dwarfs eyes, but it was clear to him that there was a relationship between his friend and that human girl. A connection both didn’t want to be revealed. So he just nodded and stepped up to the golden-brown horse. Gently he petted the beast only to earn an affectionate nip on his armour.

_“I wouldn’t mind riding with my friend. We have done so before in abundance.”_

Again the excursionist exchanged a look. The females’ eyes were inquisitive but calm, but for a brief moment Gimli would swear, that in the eyes of his friend showed something akin to panic. But within an instant the woman just smiled and shook her head. He wasn’t entirely sure if her display of emotion was not a little bit to tense to be sincere, but there was nothing he could do about it right now. He needed to talk to Aragorn about this. Minas Tirith wasn’t far and the fact that the two of them wore no armour and hardly any weapons revealed that they had taken refuge there.

_“I’m afraid that my friend isn’t able to carry so many persons at once. And I am not generous enough to let you ride of with my friend AND my steed.”_

She winked at him good-natured, but still the dwarf felt, that something was off.

 

Upon their entering the white city, they swiftly made way to the great hall. Although Aragorn was more than surprised to see his friends again, even with a bunch of dwarfs from the Misty Mountains en suite. But he promptly proved himself a gracious and kind host, offering them rooms to stay, bathes and the chance to patch themselves up before dinner. Rooms had been assigned, healers appeared and in all the tumult one could nearly overlook the fact that the human girl and Legolas hadn’t made it all the way up into the great hall by their side. Nearly.  
When Aragorn fixed the last bandage on Gimli’s grazed arm – he had taken it upon him to care for his friend by himself – they stood together by the window, smoking their pipes as the dwarf asked rather blunt:

_“Who is she? I’m not sure I like her. She barely lets him out of her sight and he seems afraid to leave her. What has she done to him? Why is she here?”_

Understanding flashed almost instantly in Aragorn’s eyes but his reaction was not anything like his friend had expected:

_“That Gimli is a question better answered by Legolas. Preferably when Ranaria of Rohan is not around.  
But rest assured my friend: Both of us, as well as all of Mirkwood, should be grateful for what she had done for him.”_

_“Then why do I need to question him when she is NOT around if she had done such a great good?”_

_“Because he isn’t honest – not even with himself – when she’s around.”_

Most people in middle earth thought that dwarfs were a little slow, but in truth they preferred to think things through before reacting to them. Although they were rather short-tempered, they carefully inspected new ideas before acting on them. So they spend some time in relaxing silence, only enjoying their pipes before Gimli grumbled:

_“You think our friend has feelings for the human girl.”_

It was formulated as a question, but both knew it wasn’t one. The signs were much too obvious for that. So he edged on:

_“What about her? What does this “Ranaria of Rohan” think of him?”_

_“That my friend is something we need to find out.  
But I can tell you this much: She has already killed for him. I know he cares for him. More will maybe reveal itself with time.”_

The king gave a small wink with that answer, before guiding his friend out of his room and into the hall for diner and discussion.

_“What do you mean >clans of orcs<?”_

_“We don’t know how many there are. They are swarming into the halls of our home and we seem to be unable to drive them out. As soon as we fend back one attack, another troop takes its place. And we can’t attack them with full force or even chase them back to their point of origin, because we have to take care that the woman and children are protected.”_

The heatedly discussion had bounced to and fro between the elf, the dwarf and the human king and until know nothing had been settled. The Misty Mountains were a dangerous place, but the dwarfs had set their heart on returning to the home of their forefathers. Therefore, no amount of persuasion would keep them from it. They all knew it and Aragorn had already agreed to help. Now they assessed all the information they could get and although every last member of the party wanted to be helpful, their knowledge was more than scanty. Finally the dwarf grumbled:

_“When we arrive there you will see what I mean.”_

Before pushing himself back from the table, sulking.   
The elf himself didn’t take that idea all that well because he abruptly stood up and left the table. Instantly Ranaria felt herself to be the focus of two pairs of eyes. One of them was full of distrust and suspiciousness while the other one was sad but confident in her. The dwarf didn’t know here, the king neither but he had experienced her while dealing with his friend. So all he could do was hope that she would be able to calm him down. With a slight bow to both of them the female rider pushed herself back from the table only to slip out through the door, through which the elf has left. The whisper of her rich dress was the only thing to be heard.  
It was not hard to spot him because he was making a tumult in one of the chambers next to the hall they sat in, that turned out to be a training area as well as an armoury. Pulling herself up onto one of the sideboards, inspecting the weapons she remarked casually with her feet dangling over the edge:

_“If you are afraid to go you don’t have to. Just explain to Gimli. He is your friend, I’m sure he will understand.”_

_“Are you crazy? How can I tell him? He will … he will …“_

The truth was, Greenleaf didn’t know what his friend might do. He would understand of course, would not expect him to accompany him into a nest of orcs, not after everything he had been through. But would he pity him. Would he observe him with the same look that Aragorn tried to hide so carefully?

_“He will think that you have suffered enough. You are not strong enough for this right now. If he really likes you he will not expect you to fight.”_

_“I AM NOT WEAK!”_

Sighing she commented, while weaving her hand dismissively.

_“Of course you are. You are barely able to stand on your own two feet, constantly searching for a hand to cling on to. Hiding behind closed doors so no one can come and get you.”_

It had taken him rather long, longer than she had expected but finally her friend charged her with a blade he had picked up at random. Pulling one of the swords from the table she parried him with ease, pushing him back so that he stumbled a little. Her voice was full of mockery as she continued:

_“Oh yes. Come on oh mighty warrior. You can barely hold the sword you picked up. Your arms ache and your muscles scream in protest. Why don’t you just go back and hide from the rest of the world, safe behind the great walls of this city. The king is your friend, I am sure he would extend his hospitality indefinitely if needed. Same goes for Arwen. They would protect you and care for you as long as they live.”_

The elf didn’t even bite back his cry of fury as he attacked her again. He was good, very good, better than she would ever be. But he WAS weak at least physically, after nearly two months of close to no exercise. This fight would sooner take his toll out of him. She would get through this to see if she could get him past his breaking point. There was a very real danger in middle earth and she would not allow him to hide from it. He would never forgive himself if he abandoned his friend in his hour of need.

_“They beat you down and broke you. You are nothing more than an animated figure full of shards and pieces. The scars are all over your skin, I can see them each and every day. You will never be whole again.”_

_“I DON’T CARE!”_

_“Really?”_

Now she attacked, drove him back, assaulted and parried, chasing him through the room. It was not easy in her long dress, but she managed. He HAD to fight back, needed to make a stand for himself and oh he looked like a warlord of old when he finally did. His hair was a dishevelled mess. His arms … his whole body was shaking under the strain of their fight, but his eyes were blazing with fire when he finally broke through her defences and attacked. He was faster than she had expected and although she was not able to parry or dodge all of his strikes, she was fast enough to keep him at bay. Finally when the both of them were quite exhausted and glared at each other over the length of the room he snapped at her viciously:

_“I CAN carry a weapon and I AM able to wield it!”_

Smiling she finally lowered her weapon and nodded:

_“Yes you are.”_

Without turning her face she asked in a softer voice:

_“When are we going to depart my Lord?”_

_“In eight days time.”_

She had noticed that their little encounter had not remained unnoticed. But the king has been perspicacious and had only brought one dwarf along. The sturdy figure had seemed furious at first, and the woman had been a little worried that he would engage in their encounter. But the king’s strong hand had held him back so that she had been able to go through with her plan.   
Looking into the eyes of her friend, she saw the realization dawning in his eyes, of what just had happened. But he didn’t say a word. He just put his weapon back, nodded to his friend and remarked in a dry tone:

_“Enough time for training.”_

before retreating through the door.   
Only when the entrance was closed again did Ranaria allow herself to sink against the table again, wrapping her arms around her waist. Exhausted and emotionally drained she just stood there and took deep breaths. She just pulled herself up when the king stepped up to her. His voice was a little confused and inquisitive as he took the sword from her.

_“Are you not going to go after him? I think he shouldn’t be alone now?”_

She just smiled a little and shrugged her shoulders.

_“Probably not, but he nicked me, and I don’t want him to see my blood until he has calmed down. He won’t like it, that he had hurt me.”_

Before the king had time to approach her again the dwarf stepped into her personal space, dragging her hands from her side.

_“Let me see that lassie.”_

Reluctantly Ranaria revealed the slash that nicked her side. There was a little blood, thankfully her green garment had hidden it. She looked really heartbroken when she inspected the cut in the fabric of her beautiful new dress, only to be huffed and puffed at by the dwarf, who insisted that the wound should be taken care off.  
Gently and a little unsure – he had looked rather grim before – she tried to pry his hands away from her bruised side while saying gently:

_“I’ve been through worse. I will clean it and it will stop bleeding soon. A tight bandage and I will be able to train with Greenleaf in the morning.”_

_“Why would you do that, when he has just injured you?”_

The dwarf looked honestly curious and the Rohirim couldn’t keep herself from smiling at the request. As if a little blood or a scratch would keep her from helping. But on the other side, he didn’t know her. He didn’t know what had happened so she just shrugged her shoulders again and explained:

_“Because he is my friend, and he takes my help. In the end that’s all that matters, isn’t it?”_

With a stiff brush the dwarf drew back. For a moment the woman wondered if she had said something wrong. But when reaching the door he turned around again, only to fix his gaze on Aragorn and declared:

_“I have decided I like her. I will get the bandages.”_

Confused and a little shocked Ranaria looked back at the king only to ask perplexed:

_“Have I just gained the sympathy of a dwarf by taunting and fighting one of his best friends?”_

_“Seems like that Ranaria, daughter of Rohan. It looks like we have a true treasure, with you at our hands. Now sit back and let me take a look at your wound.”_

Amazed and unexpectantly flattered, Ranaria just lowered herself back on her elbows watching the man inspecting her injury. They were Legolas friends, the best he had and being able to care for him seemed enough for them to care for her as well.  
After being cleaned and bandaged the three joined the dinner table again. Plans for a military review within the week were made and plans for leaving for the Misty Mountains.


	17. Training, and everything that comes with it

It has been a week, a week of early rising and endless hours of training. Sweat and Pain were constant companions, until she was on top of her game and her friend as good as he could get given the circumstances. He was angry now, at least most of the time. That anger fuelled his strength and helped him through the weariness and the fatigue. They had trained with sword, daggers and bow. He had even showed her some tricks she hadn’t thought of before. Amazingly the king had been able to come up with two sets of elvish swords. They were beautiful and seemed to weight close to nothing. Ranaria was more and more reluctant to put them down after training and for the first time in her life she wished that she had money, lots and lots of money, because the prospect to buying and fight with such masterfully crafted weapons was breath-taking. But being practical, she simply enjoyed them as long as she could, while helping her friends to master them again.  
At first they had contained their training to the armoury. For archery however they had to leave, shooting targets that were only a few feet away was hardly a challenge. Outside she had however surprised him, when angling herself diagonally or with her back to the target, only to turn around in a swift motion and hiting it dead on.

_“Do you often turn around during a fight?”_

_“How many enemies do you know that stay perfectly still when trying to kill you?”_

_“What do you mean?”_

_“I mean that all of our archers are trained to toss and turn during a fight. We are very good at what we do. But give us a moving target and you will be amazed.”_

He hadn’t believed her, she realized. But just to amuse him she had taken a few halberds and left the city on horseback. Out in the field the weapons were been placed ad irregular positions over the span of a square-kilometre. Standing at the edge of the field she had gestured towards them.

_“Can you hit all of them?”_

Although his fingers still learned their old dexterity he had taken his bow and in under a minute he had embedded an arrow in all of them. Nodding with a smile Ranaria was more than relieved to find him up to the challenge. She had been really worried at the prospect of bringing him to a fight, but she knew that this was something he needed to do. So she wanted to support him the best way she could.

_“Now what?”_

_“Now I show you how I learned to do it.”_

Whistling for Chestnut she dragged herself on the back of her horse, only to place her quiver right next to the saddle, straining her bow. Edging her horse on to circle the field, she knew that she needed to pick up a certain momentum. When they were in full gallop she turned her ride to weave through the halberds. Her aim was good and she kept a fair distance, but never the less hit the most of them. Shooting to her left, to her right, at targets at her side and the last one was far behind her back as the arrow sunk into the wood of the weapons handle.   
Sliding down from her horse she stepped up to him and admired her work. About half of the arrows were firmly sunken into the shafts, the other half was so close that she had at least grazed the handle with her shot. Had her targets been humanoids, she would at least have hit their shoulders. She smiled up at him, only to be taken aback by the looks of wonder in his eyes.

_“What?”_

_“If you can do that, with THIS bow, what could you achieve with a good one?”_

Gripping her beloved weapon a little tighter she lifter her head in defiance and defended:

_“This IS a good bow! I have used him for the last three years and he has never failed me.”_

_“What happened to the one before it?”_

Shaking her head she explained:

_“It broke, it was old and worn. This one will make it for another year or two before I have to replace it.”_

Stroking the handle of the weapon he said softly:

_“Elvish weapons are forged for eternity. They are expected to live as long as we do.”_

_“Well, maybe I will be able to see one, one day.”_

_“Yes … maybe”_

It struck him odd, how much he desired that, to have her, as a part of his word. To show her the remarkable craft of his people. To see her eyes when she wandered through the trees of his home, drinking in the sight of his people and their everyday life. But that thought was ridiculous, as was his desire. She was a rider of the Riddermark and she had a life to return to. She had friends, a family and duties back home. And as much as he wished he was free to join her, he knew that the same was true for him. All they had was their time together while she protected him and patched him up and for the first time, he regretted trying to get over what has happened to him so fast.   
Sometimes the memories and the pain were close to unbearable. But they were somehow worth living through, when Ranaria was there at the other side to keep him company.

They stayed on the field for the rest of the afternoon. Only when the sky became too dark for her eyes to make out the targets did they return.  
Gimli had taken it up to him to include his friend in the merry evenings of the dwarfs once again and Legolas found that he really didn’t mind. Usually the female rider was at his side, smiling, even laughing with his friend. When she slipped out he enjoyed the company never the less, but soon felt lonely even in the midst of all these people. His friend eyed him wearily and so he forced himself to stay with them never the less, only to look at the door she had slipped through constantly.

It was the last night before they would leave. There were other soldiers, destined to meet them at the foot of the White Mountains where the river Ringlo sunk into the earth beneath them. From there on, they would meet with the dwarfs to eliminate the thread for their homes once and for all. When the elf finally excused himself from the company that sat together in high spirits because auf their immediate departure, he silently made his way through the castle.  
He found his Rohirim sitting in front of a window, looking at the night sky. Her small form was still clad in the lush, green dress he had presented her with but for once, she hadn’t lowered her hands to cover her side. It hadn’t taken him very long to spot the patch where he had nicked her with his sword. Too angry about her insulting words he hadn’t apologized and the next day he had felt regret and shame for that. But he didn’t know how to make up for his mistake. The next morning was even harder and the morning after that and the morning after that, so to even look at her side, both her skin and the mended dress shamed him.

He should have apologized immediately, but he hadn’t. If not apologized he should have said something, anything but insults and mockery when his anger spiked. It was not her fault after all, that he wasn’t up to his usual performance, not that that was surprising after being tortured for nearly a month. Thinking about his words and deeds from the last week he suddenly realized that he had truly been cruel to her. But she had never called him on that, hadn’t even complained when his fear, caused by the inability to wield his weapons as perfectly as he was used to, has gotten the better of him. At these moments he had lashed out on her again and again, but she had taken it stoically and had edged him on in his training.  
Now, far from the training, far from weapons and from him she looked so peaceful. For the first time he asked himself if the cause for that peace was his eminent departure. Was she happy that he would be away soon? That she wouldn’t have to keep up with him, and his anger-tantrums?  
He had assumed that she would accompany him, had taken her presence for granted. Now he wasn’t so sure any more. He was ready to fight again, so he wouldn’t really need her at all. That was something he had spit into her face repeatedly over the last few days. Now the prospect of not having her at his side, especially when facing orcs, made his stomach clutch and his veins run with ice. He balled up his hands into fists to keep himself from shaking.

What had he done? Had he driven away the only person that truly cared for him?   
Sure Aragorn and Gimli were his friends too. But in their eyes he saw too much pity, even without them knowing what has happened exactly.

Ranaria was different. She had been there. In the woods when he had been so sure that he would finally be able to die. He had welcomed that prospect. When her hands had covered his nose and mouth, cutting of his air supply, he had fought instinctively for a mere moment only to make himself relax after that. After everything that had happened to him he had WANTED her to kill him, just to be done with it. But contradicting his expectations, she had picked him up and carried him out. How could so much strength rest in such a small body? She was just a human after all, but getting to know her better he had realized that she had the incredible ability to be bent under pressure, only to stand up, smiling at her enemy before striking it down. It was not important if her weapons were blades, arrows or words.   
She didn’t allow the world to get the better of her and he wished desperately, that he had been able to tell her that instead of mocking her for subjective shortcomings and insignificant flaws. Once again he found himself lost for words and he wasn’t able to meet her eyes as he approached her and sunk onto his knees right beside her, hiding his face in her lap. Wrapping his arms around her slim waist he whispered:

_“I am sorry.”_

_“For what?”_

Her voice was calm but inquisitive:

_“For injuring me with a sword, tearing my dress?_

_For mocking me during this last week and behaving like a bastard?_

_Or are you sorry for being scared my friend?”_

Flinching at every question as if she had slapped him, he bit down a sob. Just to grow very still at the last one.  
Her hands brushed his hair over his shoulder and then tugged gently at it, so that he was forced to face her. Her eyes were gentle in the moonlight as she looked upon him, as was her voice.

_“I know how you feel Greenleaf. Because whether you believe it or not, I have been where you are now, and I know how frightened you are.”_

She gently traced his hairline with her fingertips as she explained, her eyes shining with unshed tears in the night. Her voice was calm but a little shaken when she told him:

_“Nearly two years ago we got message, that some small villages, at the borders of our kingdom, were raided by orcs. Not a big group, but too much to handle for farmers. So the archers were sent there. It was my third or fourth mission, so my comrades knew what I could do and accepted me for it, overlooking the fact that I was female.  
When we arrived there; when I saw the columns of smoke rise into the sky; when I heard the shouts of the orcs and the cries of the woman and children I froze. I sat there on the hilltop, on the back of my horse and just froze because of fear. I couldn’t make my body move not for everything in the word; I swear to you I couldn’t even breath.”_

Her voice was hitched now, forced and her breath was shaking while she desperately fought for calm when the memories overwhelmed her. Her fingers continued to brush through his strands as she continued silently and somewhat embarrassed:

_“I saw myself in the place of each and every of these helpless women. I felt myself being beaten and hurt all over again. And I was so ashamed of myself. I was sure that I would fail my friends, my Captain who had put so much faith in me.  
But after a moment, I realized that my comrades – Theron included – had not ridden down to the village. They had taken a position close to me, horse next to horse stretching out at both of my sides. When they looked at me I expected pity, but what I saw was trust and determination. They didn’t expected me to draw back, they didn’t planned to protect me. All their eyes said but one thing:_

_> We can do this, all of us together.<”_

Abashed by her display of emotion, she raised her fingers only to be beaten by her friend. Gently he grazed over her cheeks, brushing away the tears that had fallen. Swallowing hard Ranaria forced herself to continue:

_“In that moment I suddenly realized that I believed them. They knew me. They had seen me training, they had helped me getting there. Theron had rescued me. Aaron, who had used so much of his time to help me mastering my blade. Companions who had known me for over a year or just a few weeks looked at me and had absolute faith in me to stay at their side. So I took my bow and we rode down into the village, and with every arrow I embedded in an orc, with every skin I sliced open with my blade, with every child I pushed back into the arms of her mother and especially with every figure I piled up before igniting the pyre, I felt a part of my nightmare lifting. After every last orc has been slaughtered I stood there, next to the burning heap of bodies. I was close, close enough to feel the heat char my skin, feeling my eyes water because of the hazes. But with every breath I took I felt myself cleansed from my past.”_

With an unsteady breath she looked into his eyes again. Emotions dwelled close to the surface, but her eyes were indisputable as she said:

_“Some things can never be undone, I know that. What has happened will forever be a part of me, inside my mind and outside my body. But that night I rid myself from my nightmares and I came out whole again. Memories will last, but they will not keep me from doing what is right._

_And that is something I cannot do for you, no matter how much I wish I could._

_You need to go out there, face these monsters and get back your life from them. Otherwise you will never be able to return home again, because an important part of yourself will be missing until you demand it back.”_

_“Will you come with me?”_

Ranaria seemed to be more than a little taken aback by the question. Her eyes were confused and a tiny bit hurt as she asked:

_“Did you doubt that I would?”_

_“I have … I did …  
… Please, forgive me.”_

Smiling she cupped his cheek with her warm hand and whispered:

_“No need. I’m not that easily insulted.”_

He relaxed a fraction, but still clanged onto her, as if she would run away if he let go.   
They stayed like that for the better part of the night, falling asleep now and then, only to wake up a few hours before dawn, crawling into bed.  
When the sun rose so did they. They silently washed and braided their hair before putting on the armours that had been provided respectively cleaned by the kings servants. In the armoury they met the king and his guards. They prepared themselves in equal silence. Only when Ranaria was about to leave to care for her horse did the king hold her back. He stepped up to her with two filled scabbards and some leather straps. His words were earnest as he said:

_“You have proven your worth over and over Ranaria of Rohan. Please accept this weapons as a sign of my gratitude, may they protect you on the field.”_

Ranaria didn’t need to draw the two swords from their sheds. She knew them far too well from their training sessions. They would be light, and of shimmering silver, curved perfectly, covered to the middle of the hilt with elvish letters. Completely overwhelmed by the offering she just took a step back and whispered:

_“I can’t … they are far too valuable for me.”_

Smiling the king took her sword and fitted the straps around her torso, only to arrange her quiver and bow neatly over them. His voice was gentle as he induced:

_“Let me be the judge of that.  
And by the way, I don’t want to explain to queen Eowyn why I have allowed the first soldier she releases into my care, to be slaughtered. ”_

With flaming read cheeks Ranaria just bowed deeply and took off towards the stables, not waiting for her friend, who remained behind with the king.

_“Thank you Aragorn.”_

_“She is worth more than that and we both know it.  
Do you think you can do it?”_

Looking after his rider Legolas looked back into the eyes of the king and nodded.

_“With all of you by my side? Yes. I know I can do this.”_


	18. Batteling Orcs

Readying her armour, her saddle, her weapons and her horse was almost instinctual for the young rider. So she had time to concentrate on the dwarfish figure that had stepped up to Chestnuts box a few minutes ago. However, as long as Gimli wasn’t about to say anything, she wouldn’t either. She gave him time to inspect her, to judge her steed, her weapons, her armour, her demeanour because she suspected him to search for weaknesses. He might have found some two years ago. He would surely have found some after her own capture. But now there was nothing to be afraid or uncertain about, not here, not now. She finally turned around when she heard him grumble into his beard:

_“So the rider of Rohan is joining the soldiers of Gondor?”_

It was really more of a statement than a question, but she turned around never the less, allowing him to take in her figure and her determination as she answered:

_“Yes, I am. Don’t you appreciate an extra bow to defend your home Gimli, Gloins son?”_

_“Aragorn offered the bows of many of his men, and Legolas is excellent marksman.”_

_“Yes he is. Without any doubt.”_

She didn’t know what he was looking for. Patronizing words that made showed that she didn’t believe her friend to be able to accompanying the dwarf on his own? Something that would indicate, that she merely came along to support her charge, that she thought that he couldn’t make it without her? Truth to be told, Ranaria didn’t know if her friend would be able to go alone. He had to, it was important for his recovery and maybe the support of his friends would be enough. But she was not willing to test that theory. She had already organized another horse, for the elf and the dwarf to ride together as they had done before. She had planned to allow herself to fall back, remaining silently in the background. The more he was able to achieve on his own, the stronger he would come out of this. Possibly even strong enough to return to his people. The mere thought make her swallow heavily and forcing her to turn around again. She didn’t want Gimli to see her pain at the prospect of losing Greenleaf. He wouldn’t understand anyway, would take her grief as weakness so she tried to hide it as good as she could. His words were inquisitive and curious as he continued:

_“I was told that you had prepared a strong horse for the two of us?”_

That was something she could work with, so she smiled and looked at him again:

_“As much as I would like to believe that your riding skills has increased over the last few years, your legs surely hadn’t. So in order of a swift journey it is better for you if your friend stirs your horse.”_

He looked at her for a mere moment before admitting with a petulant smile:

_“Yes I do.”_

_“You do what?”_

_“Appreciate an extra bow to defend our home.”_

With that he turned around to grab for the bristles of the horse she had prepared for them and departed from the stables. Surprised and a little confused by the encounter Ranaria petted Chestnut one more time and left the stables too. In front of the town the men mounted their rides and they were off towards the mountains.   
The journey took many days and the longer they were on their way, the more confident her friend became. He rode with his friend without further comment and clearly appreciated his company during the evenings. During the night Ranaria approached him, only to put her head on his chest, rolling in at his side. The woman fancying the elf, classic story, it was clear to everybody what was going on, their intertwining fingers all through the night and his visible relaxation as soon as he felt her, smelled her hair at his side remained unnoticed, at least to the vast majority of the soldiers.

The army was considerable after their reunion at the White Mountain and that slowed them down significantly while traveling through Rohan and the Fangorn forest. Clearly the king had informed his neighbour what was going on, because on their third day of their journey an army of about one hundred riders join their ranks. It took them close to a week to reach the home of the dwarfs, but they weren’t able to go all the way. It looked like the mountain was under siege, the wilderness out there crawling with orcs and human with vicious weapons and malicious demeanours.  
Ranaria had been part of the vanguard that had spotted them. Returning to their camp they decided to set up basecamp behind a hilltop that would hide their immanent approach. The generals 7 got together, discussing a tactic to ensure their victory. The enemy was numerous and the dwarfs more than a little worried about their home. Finally it was decided to approach from two sides, the soldiers from the side and the archers from above. They all counted on the dwarfs inside the tunnels to come out when it was clear, that help has arrived.

The last night Ranaria had found a resting place on top of the hill. She was small and hard to spot when close to the trees that grew there sporadically. But she had a clear view over the enemy. Her fingers brushed over the pendant as she drank in the sight of the orcs. Her mind supplied her with brutal things these creatures could do to the dwarfs who lived here, but she just stroke her pendant and remained unmoving. There was really no way around this and as much as she wished to be able to charge in and slaughter each and every one of them, she knew that she had to wait. She would get her chance tomorrow to sink her arrows an her blades in orcen-flesh.  
She heard someone approaching, expecting to be called back for watch-duty. But it was Greenleaf who climbed up the hill. He didn’t make it all to the top and Ranaria didn’t expect him to. His face was pale, even more so in the moonlight, and although his breathing was even one of his fists was tightly closed around the hilt of his sword. Joining him on the way down to their tent none of them said a word, not even when he wrapped himself around her, resting his head at her belly, while looking into the flames.

 

The next morning was crisp and cold, but they all knew that this would work to their advantage. With air so clear they would be able to see every tree and every stone, and even more so every orc who was about to die and saturate the earth at the foot of the mountains with his blood. After a strengthening breakfast, they divided into their squads, Ranaria joining a band of archers, even though her people were prepared to ride in from the side. She was not surprised to find Greenleaf approaching her horse after swift words with Aragorn and Gimli. His face was a composed mask of calm, but his fingers were shaking slightly as she offered him her hand, so that he could climb up behind her. They both knew that he didn’t need her support, that he was able to climb up behind her on his own, but her hand had been the silent answer to his unspoken question if he was allowed to join her. He had done exceptionally so far, to expect him to go through this on his own was too much to ask.

When they approached the hilltop the whole squad paused to allow their enemies to spot them. When concentrating on one target, they might be taken by surprise by the solders that would soon charge in on them from the side. These few moments, when the view of the sheer number of orcs overwhelmed them she felt the body at her back starting to shake. Turning around she looked into wide, horror-filled eyes. Taking his hand and clutching it tightly, she forced him to look at her. Her voice was silent but strong as she stated:

_“NO! No falling apart right now. You find something to hold on to, something that gives you strength. Then we will go down there, slaughter these beasts and return here. THAN you can break down. Only after we are back safe. Until then you seize whatever makes you strong enough to go through this, and we will make it out of here alive. Do you understand?”_

It took the duration of a heartbeat for her friend to focus on her. Her voice was intense as she asked again:

_“Whatever gives you strength … do you understand?”_

He swallowed hard and nodded. Turning back around Ranaria suddenly felt slim fingers latching onto her belt, closing on the strong material. So for now she seemed to do it. Grateful for small favours she edged her horse on with her feet only, drawing her bow when they started their attack. Charging in on the enemy at full speed they all shot whatever target presented itself and surprisingly Ranaria was able to forget about the figure that sat behind her, concentrating only on the danger ahead and their survival.  
Soon his fingers left her belt, only to draw his own bow. Used to be close by now they knew each other’s movements by heart, so when one leaned to the side, the other one followed, leaning back they melted onto the horseback, stirring it with their combined weight they wove through the other archers and their enemys.

Soon the fight turned bloody and nasty, so they abandoned their horse, only to dive into the battle. Usually being conscious about her blade and it’s weight the new swords felt like an extension of Ranarias arms. Joining Aragorn and Gimli on the battlefield the four of them closed in on the gate that still held under the on slaughter. They slipping through a hidden passage at the side of the entrance. Finding the dwarfs inside the mountain ready to join them, they opening the heavy doors, washing over the orcs and humans like a tidal wave.   
Blood, cries of pain and slaughter surrounded them, but none of them thought about abandoning the group. Together they made their stand and fought back the invaders. The battle went on for the better part of the day, but when the sun prepared to set in the west, flames licked over piles of dead bodies that burned with thick, black smoke.

Remembering her past Ranaria kept her distance from her friend, who watched the pyres motionless. It was Aragorn who approached her with a water skin. For some time the king remained silent at her side but eventually he asked:

_“What is he doing?”_

_“Purifying himself from his past.”_

They both remained stood together for a few more moments before the king asked:

_“If I asked you, would you tell me what has happened to him?”_

Shaking her head wordlessly the young rider returned the waterskin after having drunken her fill.

_“What if I ordered you to reveal it?”_

After a moment’s hesitation she took a deep breath and turned towards the king. Her eyes were full of regret but her voice was steady as she answered:

_“I would humbly beg for your forgiveness my Lord and meekly accept any punishment you would give me, for disobeying you.”_

_“You love him.”_

That was no question, merely a statement and as much as Ranaria wished to deny it, she knew he was right. She felt tears running out of her eyes as she realized the futility of her feelings. So she just whispered:

_“It doesn’t matter. I’m just a human. He’s a prince.  
I was just there to rescue him and I am grateful that I was able to.”_

_“I too am just a human. Arwen gave me her heart long before I claimed my throne. Don’t sell yourself short Ranaria of Rohan. You are far more to him than his saviour.”_

Smiling and shaking her head at the comparison Ranaria turned towards the king. Her voice was sad but earnest as she said:

_“There is nothing “just” about you my Lord. You are an extraordinary man, always were, always will be. Both the Lady Arwen and you are blessed to have found one another.”_

She looked down at her friend before concluding:

_“As for me, I’m just a scarred rider. Nothing more, nothing less. I was just at the right place and the right time, and I will thank the Valar forevermore for that. Once in my life I have really been able to make a difference. That shall be enough.”_

Putting her hand up to her chest she bowed respectfully before retreating, leaving behind the human to look out for his friend by himself.

 

Catching up with her people they decided to accept the invitation of the dwarves to stay for the night to make sure that the danger truly has passed. Accepting quarters, supplies for cleaning and dinner she fell onto a mattress truly exhausted that evening. In retrospect it had been a fantastic battle and she was proud of herself having acted in such a professional manner, not letting her past getting to her. No one in her surrounding has been wounded and their losses were close to none. Rising after a remarkable long sleep she realized that it had been the first night she had spent alone during the last month. She should have been happy that Greenleaf didn’t need her any more, but somehow she couldn’t conjure the feeling.  
Hunting down some breakfast she found him in an animated discussion with a few dwarfs, light shining in his eyes and he only nodded to her as she approached the table. He seemed so happy and relaxed and she was tremendously grateful for that. At least that’s what she told herself. Her people had planned to leave in the morning and now she was convinced that she could leave with them. Here work here was done. There was just one, small thing left. Honestly it was more for her than for her friend, but she couldn’t keep herself from doing it either way.

Relying on her host’s generosity, she remerged from the workshop with a few strands of leather that she wound into a bracelet expertly. She had always had a knack for such trinkets, so it took her only a little effort, to wrap up a strand of her light-brown inside the bands of brown leather.

When their departure was immanent she approached the king, bowing deeply.

_“My Lord I think my work here is done. I shall return home with my people.”_

Looking at her for long moments the king finally nodded and said:

_“I am grateful for all you have done for us. If you wish to leave I will release you from my service. I assume you have already bid our friend good bye?”_

Smiling sadly she shook her head.

_“My presence will only remind him of what has happened. He is better now, I shan’t remind him of the past, now that he has claimed back his future. He doesn’t need me anymore. I have but one request my Lord.”_

Presenting the bracelet she asked:

_“Could you please give that to him? It’s something for him to hold on to if he needs to. I am sure he will be able to understand.”_

If the king found the leather wristlet odd, he didn’t give an indication. He just nodded and accepted her offering before wishing her good luck for her journey back home.

 

Ranaria wasn’t sure how long they rode or how straining their journey was. She felt empty inside, hollowed and void. Only when Edoras came into few she thought of her friends, of her father and for the first time in days, she could muster a spark of excitement to see the people again, she had missed so much over the last month. Upon her arriving she immediately reported back to the queen and gave her the letter the king had bestowed on her. But the Lady Eowyn didn’t seem interested in the message from their neighbours. She looked at her rider with scrutinising eyes, asking her a few questions about her time in Gondor but released her shortly after that so that the girl could return to her father who had missed her dearly.   
When her husband approached her and put his hands on her shoulder, looking at her questioningly she just said:

_“I fear that we didn’t get everything back we have sent out.”_

_“How so?”_

_“I am afraid that Ranaria has left a part of herself in Gondor. We will see what comes of this and if her sacrifice was worthwhile.”_


	19. Against all odds

It was easier after the first week and even more so after the second. Ranaria concentrated on the things she was supposed to do. She trained hard, went on patrol, sat together with her friends, laughed and smiled when expected. Everything was as it should be. The dreams have seized and even when her cheeks were wet with tears upon her awakening, she just brushed them aside, not allowing herself to linger on the pictures of the night.

_“There is a bloodstain on the back of your shirt Nia.”_

Her clothing was always flawlessly stitched and clean, just like one would expect from a soldier of Rohan. So pretending something they both knew to be untrue, like she wasn’t aware of the state of her clothes, was futile. Sighing she answered:

_“I know father.”_

Of course she knew how could she not? She looked at that shirt every damn morning before putting it on. No matter if it was still damp from cleaning. No matter if she wanted to force herself to reach for another one, a newer one, a clean one, she inevitably put on the blood-stained shirt she had brought back from Gondor. Avoiding her father’s touch on the stain, she circled around him to pick up a vest that would hide the imperfections. While covering her cuffs with her bracers she explained:

_“I will go for a ride now. Captain Theron had given me the day off and I would like to go to the falls.”_

Riding alone was easier; concentrating on the horse, on his movements stilled her thoughts, kept her from remembering. Recently she did that as often as possible, even if it meant riding off after a long day of duty.  
Acknowledging her plan with a nod her father watched wordlessly as his daughter left their house. Looking after her for long moments he decided to go to the majesties before starting his work.

 

_“Please my Lady, send her back to Gondor. She is …”_

Taking both of his hands in hers the queen stopped the leader of the guards.

_“I know Naron! Don’t you think I see her, when she stands guard outside of the hall, filling in for one of your men? Don’t you think I don’t realize that she hasn’t returned whole from her trip to the white city?  
But there is nothing I can do. What she looks for might not be in Minas Tirith at all, and although I am sure that the king of Gondor would welcome her once again, sending her there is not the solution to our problem!”_

_“Than what is?”_

Frustrated the man trailed his hands through his hair; only to mess it up even more, so that is outer appearance matched his inner turmoil.

Now the king stepped up to him and placed his hands on the shoulders of the father, replacing the queen in front of the soldier. The infinite love the man showed for his daughter touched him deeply and he wished to help.

_“We will write to Gondor. Lord Aragorn surely knows what is going on. The elf Legolas Greenleaf is his friend. Maybe he can find a solution.”_

_“My Lord I …”_

_“Your daughter has done us a great dead commander Naron. We will do our best to repay her the kindness she has shown. After all, a letter is not too much to ask for.”_

The blonde king’s crooked smile gave hope to the man, who hated to see his daughters suffering day after day. Especially when she tried so hard, to hide herself from him and everybody else. She was a good girl, a good woman and deserved to be happy. And if he saw any chance to ensure that happiness, he was willing to do whatever it took.

Grateful for the support of his queen and king he bowed deeply and returned to his squad. His squadron was the first guard of the great hall, discussing schedules that would ensure the safety of their majesties, as well as provide the riders regular outcome for the energies they inevitably accumulated while standing motionless for the better part of the day.

 

When Aragorn told him that Ranaria has left, Legolas wanted to shout at his friend, to chastise him for letting her go. But he knew that every word he could say on that matter was spoken in vain. The rider had not really belonged to the king, had not been part of the soldiers of Gondor. She had been there on her own free will and had left in the same manner. He felt reject, betrayed and empty because of the loss. When his friend gave him the bracelet he just looked at it in disgust and threw it into a corner of the room they had held council in. Without another word he turned around and left, door closing forcefully behind him.

_“What should we do with it?”_

Gimli clearly was not happy about his friends suffering. He stood up and went to the corner where the bracelet lay.

_“Nothing my friend. Leave it be.”_

When he realized his friends confusion Aragorn explained:

_“He is angry and hurt. But I am sure he will look for it later. It’s a gift from her after all. I doubt that he will leave it behind when it’s the only thing she has left for him.”_

Grumbling the dwarf pushed the bracelet further into the corner so no one would pick it up accidently.

_“Why did she leave after all? Everybody could see that the both of them were besotted with each other.”_

Aragorn just smiled and stood at the fire, igniting his pipe before answering:

_“Because she is just a human girl, and he is an elf, a prince of Mirkwood.”_

_“You are human too and Arwen is an elf. That didn’t keep the two of you from each other.”_

_“Exactly my friend. But before such a decision is made, both of them need to acknowledge their feelings for each other, at least to themselves.”_

Mumbling again the dwarf stepped up to his friend.

_“Foolish humans and even more foolish elves. It’s much easier with dwarf’s. You present the object of your heart’s desire with a gift and if she accepts it half the way is gone.”_

_“True. But in order for something like that to work, the gift has to be accepted in the first place.”_

Turning his head meaningful towards the corner where Ranarias present lay, he just smiled at his friend in good faith. If they didn’t make it on their own … his queen was rather good when it came to matchmaking. She had proven that time and time again at court. Maybe she would find interest in the relationship between his friend and the female rider. Then there would be no force in middle earth or beyond to keep those two apart.  
After this brief encounter the General of his soldiers returned into the council chamber, along with the dwarven commander and they spend the best part of the evening discussing how to clean the woods and mountains from the remnants of the orcs that lay hidden there. No one trusted the battle to be all encompassing.

It was close to midnight when the door of the chamber was opened again. The tall figure that slipped through the crack was inaudible as it approached a dark corner, illuminated only by the dying ember of the fire. Fingertips whispered over the floor until they closed around two thin leather-braids. The sigh of relieve was almost tangible in the dark chamber before the figure left again.  
When Legolas came to breakfast the next morning the bracelet was closed firmly around his wrist. Neither Aragorn nor Gimli commented that, only explained where they would go today, to purge the lands from the evil that had infested it once and for all. When Legolas turned away to get his weapons they allowed themselves a smile and a wink before trailing after him.

 

It took nearly a week to make sure, that no orc remained in the surroundings. Pure hatred and determination kept the elf together as he encountered orc after orc until they were extinguished from these lands. Helping the dwarfs to reclaim their mountains, secure them and repair the damage that had been done took another. Aragorn had returned to Minas Tirith but Legolas found, that he didn’t mind accompanying Gimli a little longer. At least with his merry friend at his side, he didn’t have much time alone, nearly no time to think about what has happened and what he missed so dearly. Only in the darkest hours of the night did he relieve himself from the bracelet. Winding it through his fingers, he rolled up on an empty mattress that seemed far too big and too cold to sleep on it alone.  
In the middle of the third week he returned to the white city. He knew he needed to go home. Though what has happened seemed like a lifetime ago, he was well aware that it had been little more than five months since he has departed from his people. Not enough time for his father to worry about him, but surely plenty to think about his return. But he didn’t want to leave the kingdom of men without saying goodbye to his friend, and thanking him for everything he had done for him.

Upon his return to Minas Tirith he was welcomed with open arms, bestowed in his old room and invited for dinner by both the king and queen. Being in dire need of a bath he retreated to his chamber only to be knocked out by the sheer familiarity of it. Everything was exactly as he remembered. Even the comb Ranaria had used on him was still there, as well as some of the bands he had woven into her hair. The green dress was carefully draped over a chair that sat next to their bed. Against his will he stepped close to it and picked it up. Feeling the soft material beneath his fingers, smelling the unique fragrance that contained lavender soap, horse and weapon balm … something that was so distinctively Ranaria, that it made him shiver. Pulling the fabric to his face he inhaled deeper, only to feel hot tears sliding down his cheeks.  
She had been there, every day and every night as soon as she had gotten word that he was still in need of here. Yet she had abandoned him at the first possible chance. She had been so kind, so friendly and gentle in her touches, yet strong and unyielding with a core of steel when it had come to the things he had needed, regardless of his wishes. Her whole life was a contradiction, one the elf simply couldn’t make sense of. All he knew was that he missed her so much and the prospect of not seeing her again threatened to break his heart.

The bath and the dinner afterwards passed somewhat in a haze. He answered the kings and queens questions reflexively and with years of diplomatic experience as a prince, but most of the time he remained silent, oblivious to the meaningful looks that the royals exchanged. Shortly after dinner the Lady Arwen stepped up to him and embraced him tenderly. Expressing her relieve to have seen him once more before his departure she excused herself and let the two man be.

Standing in front of the fire while his friend provided them with a drink, he flinched slightly as Aragorn asked out of the blue:

_“You miss her, don’t you?”_

Opening his hand that he had closed around his wrist where Ranarias bracelet sat, he seized the offered drink and took a sip before answering in a slightly strained voice:

_“She left. No use in missing what you can’t have.”_

A convenient answer but the king wasn’t fooled.

_“Of course she left. She was your crutch and when you didn’t need that any longer, she saw no reason to remain behind. Relying on support when one doesn’t need it makes us weak. She knew this better than anyone, so as soon as you were able to walk on your own, she left. So you could go whichever way you wanted.”_

_“But …”_

Turning towards his friend it took Legolas a few moments to grasp the true meaning of his friend’s words.  
She had been always helpful, always supportive, always there up until the very moment when he had proven that he had been able to cope on his own. Had she really thought herself his stake and nothing more? Encounters and shared experiences played before his inner eye and he became aware, that he had never … not once, given any indication that he had seen more in her than a help. Even his present has been marked by gratitude instead of affection. Burying his face in his hands he sat down hard and looked up to Aragorn rather helplessly.

_“How … how can I make this right?”_

Leaning down to his friend, the king rested his hands on his opposite’s shoulders. His words were gentle and full of understanding as he explained:

_“By choosing your next way very carefully my friend. She is just a human after all and her time on middle earth is limited.”_

Shooting up from his stool Aragorn kept him steady and promised:

_“A horse will be ready tomorrow at dawn. If you make haste you can reach Meduseld within four days ride.”_

Looking at his friend the elf embraced him and whispered:

_“Le hannon Estel. Le hannon.“_

_“You are welcome Legolas. Now go to sleep. You have a strenuous journey ahead of you.”_

And with these words of gratitude they parted and the king went to search for his wife. Arwen stood at the window of their chamber, with worried eyes. Before she could formulate the question Aragorn stepped up to her and closed his arms around her.

_“He will leave tomorrow … for Rohan.”_

Relieved Arwen sank against her husband. Grateful that their friend was finally on the right track, they retreated for the night.

 

The next new moon would come soon and Ranaria had finally been able to settle into a rhythm that didn’t worry her father too much. She had been well aware of his glances and concerned looks, but after the first fortnight she had been better, tried harder to fit back in. She still wore the same shirt but she knew that even this comfort would soon come to an end. It simply wasn’t appropriate anymore for the hours of training; guard duties and patrols took their toll out of the linen. She would keep it as a nightshirt though. No one cared about her appearance after sundown. It was not as if she had someone to share her bed with …  
Shaking her head she resolutely pushed these thoughts away. She had done so good over the last weeks, distancing herself from what has happened trying to forget the blazing blue eyes that haunted her nearly constantly and sometimes, for a few moments, she was able to supress them. Maybe it would be easier with time. Maybe she would forget. Clutching her swords harder, she tried to squish the pain that bloomed in her heart at that very thought, only to throw herself into her training even harder than before.

Aaron – just like everybody else – had admired the weapons she had brought back home and after a brief discussion with her captain, where she had proven that she was able to handle them, she had been allowed to make them part of her uniform. After all, their main concern was to keep her at arm’s length from any danger, so weapons with a higher operating range were always welcome.

 

New moon would be tonight, Ranaria could feel that in her bones. Looking up to the moonless sky she smiled sadly and shook herself out of the thoughts about a certain elf, she had first seen dirty and beaten on the forest floor, on a night very much like the upcoming one, only four months ago. Washing her hands and ridding herself of her armour she made a quick dip back to her home, only to retrieve another vest to hide the stains on her shirt. The arms of her shirt were still marked, but she would just turn them and keep them hidden from view when talking to the majesties.  
Gracefully she kneeled before her queen and king before rising at Eowyn’s command. Allowing herself to be guided to a bench at the side of the great hall she leaned against one of the great pillars that held the roof of Meduseld, effectively hiding herself from view. She knew that her father’s soldiers stood guard outside, but she had no desire fuelling their speculations about what she did here.

_“By riding to Gondor, you have done us a great favour Ranaria. The king Aragorn speaks highly of you. Especially when it comes to your performance during the battle with the orcs at the White Mountains.”_

_“I was fortunate. The tactic was flawless, not hard to follow.”_

A little embarrassed by the praise Ranaria lowered his head to hide her flaming cheeks. Only then did she notice, that the queen held a letter in her hand that was sealed with the insignia of Gondor.

_“Excuse me my Lady, but that was nearly a month ago. Why are we talking about this now?  
Is there a problem in Gondor? A problem with orcs or … anybody else?”_

Tight and suddenly wound up Ranaria struggled to breathe evenly. But the queen just put her hand on the girls arm and shook her head.

_“No, don’t worry Ranaria. Everybody is safe. I just … I wanted to ask you if I could offer you something. The king of Gondor presented you with formidable swords or so I have heard. But I feel that we haven’t showed our gratitude. You presented our kingdom and our people in the best light. An act like that shall not be left unrewarded.”_

The queen brushed Ranarias braid back over her shoulder and forced the young woman to look upon her. There was but one thing she desired to hear from her soldier, one that would confirm king Aragorn suspicions. Her eyes were inquisitive as she asked silently:

_“Tell me what you desire Ranaria and if it’s in my power to grant it you shall have it.”_

Overwhelmed by the mere prospect and forced to confront her heart’s desire Ranaria couldn’t hold herself together any longer. Quivering and desperate tears began streaming down her cheeks. There was but one thing … just one thing but …  
Overwhelmed by the sheer force of the emotions she faced, the queen closed her arms around her female rider and held her tight. Stroking over her hair she gently rocked the girl until she calmed down a little. Here words were a mere whisper as she said:

_“I take it that the only thing you want cannot be granted by me nor any other king in middle earth.”_

Shaking her head miserably Ranaria retreated a little and tried to pull herself together. There was no use in crying over something she could not have. Countless nights of tears had taught her that. Wanting to be whole, wanting to be unblemished, wanting to be loved. Some things simply were not meant to be so she just took a deep breath before answering:

_“Thank you my Lady, I really appreciate the offering but …”_

Her last words were interrupted by a rather forceful entry in the great hall. Not wanting anybody to see her like that she pressed herself closer to the pillar while the queen rose and confronted the intruder.

 

_“I need to see Ranaria. Tell me where she is!”_

_“Greetings Legolas Greenleaf. Welcome in Edoras. What brings you to Rohan?”_

Being slapped with convention the intruder took a deep breath and the shuffling of clothes surely meant that he was showing the proper respect to the king and queen of Gondor. Ranaria didn’t dare to turn around, because – although she had never heard this voice with such a commanding tone – she was well aware who stood in the golden hall right behind her. It could not be true, surely it was a misunderstanding but for one moment, for a few heartbeats the girl wanted to revel in the idea that her elf had come to find her, to be with her, no matter the odds.

_“I am sorry Lady Eowyn. I bid you my greetings but – as I just said – I only came here to talk to Ranaria. It is a rather pressing matter, so I would be tremendously grateful if you could graciously point me into the right direction.”_

_“And what would you want from this daughter of Rohan?”_

Good question. One Ranaria herself desperately wished to hear the answer to.  
Although … coming up with an appropriate reply seemed to render the guest speechless. There was some fidgeting and the sounds of leather and cloth being dragged around. Nearly inaudible footsteps were heard before soft words were voiced:

_“Tell her … please Lady Eowyn, when you see her, tell her that I do not want to hold on to this. It isn’t enough. She will understand, I promise.”_

Daring to peek around the corner Ranaria spotted Eowyn holding the leather-bracelet she had made for her friend.  
The guest seemed to prepare for leaving and said:

_“If you allow it, I will wait in front of the town. Please Milady be so kind and inform me, when she is willing to speak to me.”_

A quick glance was exchanged between the two woman. The eyes of the queen were open and friendly. They showed encouragement and support about whatever decision Ranaria was about to make. One more heartbeat and her friend would be gone. Gone from the hall and if she were not carefully gone from her life. She wanted this, had dreamed about it for many nights, and now that he had come for her, she still wasn’t sure if she could really believe it. Maybe this was but another dream and she would wake within moments, only to find herself lonely again, only with his … her … well their shirt to cling on to.  
A small smile of encouragement from the queen made her rise and step around the pillar. Her voice was silent but inquisitive as she asked:

_“… then what would be enough?”_

In the end that was the final question for both of them. The question they would have to answer for the rest of their lives.

Turning around and closing in on her took not more than a heartbeat, and for a long moment the two of them only drank in the sight of each other. The fear, the exhaustion, the pain … the overwhelming joy of being close again. His long fingers brushed over her face, tracing her scars almost reverently as he put their foreheads together gently. His breath was sweet as his words when he whispered:

_“You Ranaria, only you!”_

before leaning into her tenderly and bringing their lips together for their very first kiss.

All thought left her as she felt his lips against her own. All the doubts and her fears vanished and she threw her arms around his body with all the strength she could muster.  
Luckily he seemed to return her feelings because he encircled her body in an equally forceful measure, only to pull her against his own until they were practically melted together. For endless moments they stood, as close to each other as possible, revelling in the feeling of expressing their emotions wordlessly for the very first time, before they heard a slightly embarrassed coughing at their side.

The king had stepped up to them and opted with a smile:

_“It seems that a camp outside of this city will not be necessary. Maybe Ranaria can offer a place to rest within her own walls.”_

Beaming with delight at that prospect, the pair intertwined their fingers and bowed deep before the queen and king of Rohan. Ranarias voice was overjoyed as she said:

_“Thank you for your offer queen Eowyn, but it seems like I have gotten my heart’s desire after all, and I am thankful that you made it possible in the first place.”_

After that she left the great hall to show her love her hometown, her training grounds, her comrades and finally her house where she was sure that they would find truly peaceful rest for the first time in forever.

 

The royals stood at the head of the steps that descended into the city, watching after the jubilant couple. It was the king who first voiced his doubts about the situation.

_“He is an elf, a prince. I doubt that he will be happy to live in a town full of humans.”_

Smiling the queen kissed her husband and offered gently:

_“Maybe it is time that we think about sending an ambassador to the elves of Mirkwood. Good relationships with neighbours are very important these days, even if they are not close to our borders. Lorien is lost; no one lives within these forests any more. Only few elves remain. We should start to acquaint ourselves with them no one knows when the next conflict will come up. One can’t have enough allies.”_

_“And I take it you already have a person in mind for that position.”_

Smiling at him again, the queen moved her head in a thoughtful manner.

_“Maybe my love, maybe I have.”_

**Author's Note:**

> ♥ I'd love to hear your thoughts on that one. ♥
> 
> By the way, I am still looking for someone who would ride a prequel to this story.  
> There are two characters to be captured, to be tortured. Who is up for the challenge?
> 
> Thank you for staying with me till the end.
> 
> Love  
> Anchanee


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